


Close to Home

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-19
Updated: 2004-06-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin have not met yet.  Brian has other problems to deal with.  Thanks to Gina for the plot bunny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

The road ahead was clear and dry. The headlights of the Jeep illuminated the empty street. At two-fifteen in the morning Brian had the city to himself. He yawned. It was actually early for him to be going home. He had had his cock sucked in the backroom at Babylon, but had been unable to find a worthy subject for the reigning stud of Liberty Avenue to take home with him. The satisfying buzz he had enjoyed earlier in the night was long gone. He hadn't felt like starting another one. He had a big presentation to make tomorrow, actually today, now that he thought about it.

Brian turned onto Highcastle. He'd be home in less than five minutes. The headlights of another car suddenly shone into the Jeep. Some other poor soul was out in the wee small hours of the morning. Brian watched as the other car rapidly approached. The fucking idiot must be traveling at a good clip. Brian frowned as the car lights veered into his lane. What the fuck was this imbecile doing?

Brian slowed a bit hoping the wandering vehicle would pass him by. The car drew nearer and Brian sped up again to get past him. He would be home in a couple of minutes – home and safe. The car drew almost level with the Jeep and Brian watched in fascination as the lights once again veered towards him. He pulled the steering wheel sharply to the right trying to avoid the tons of metal hurtling at him. There was a huge sound of crunching and breaking, and then scraping as the Jeep was bent in half and dragged down the street. He could taste copper in his mouth and there was agonizing pain and then total darkness.

"No!" Brian screamed as he thrashed around in his bed. 

His eyes flew open. His breathing was ragged and sweat matted his hair to his forehead. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Fuck!" he muttered.

He hadn't had that dream for a few weeks. He was hoping maybe it was finally over and he wouldn't have to relive that accident ever again. No such luck!

Gradually his breathing began to return to normal. Brian sighed and realized he needed to piss. He reached up, his hand encircling the grab bar that now projected from the wall above his bed. He levered himself out of the bed and into the wheelchair that sat ready for him. He wheeled himself into the bathroom. Sliding forward on the chair he was able to piss into the pitcher-like urinal that swung out next to the toilet.

Brian turned and wheeled back into the bedroom. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It told him that it was almost three a.m. Another sleepless night lay ahead, another long restless night. He wondered if he'd ever get used to the empty hours of the night. With a scowl he wheeled himself down the ramp from the bedroom and over to the computer. He might as well see if any other night owls were online.

He logged on to his favorite chat site. He never thought he would become a computer geek, a pathetic, lonely asshole whose main contact with the world was through computer chat rooms. But since the accident, that's exactly what he had become. It was much easier to talk online than in person. On the computer he didn't have to have his game face always in position. He could be a normal man, an ordinary man, a man who could walk and work and fuck. This way he didn't have to look at them, didn't have to see the unasked questions and the pity when they looked at him. The pity was the worst.

Brian shook his head and signed in with his web name PP. That always got him attention. Brian grinned. Let's see what delights awaited him tonight. Brian scanned the list of who was online. There were a couple of the regulars that he had talked to before, but he wanted something different, something new.

"Hmm," Brian thought. There was someone new calling himself or herself BB. BB and PP seemed destined for each other. Brian checked the stats on BB – male, twenty-two, artist, definitely not Brigitte Bardot. That wasn't much information to go on, and there was nothing to say that any of it was even close to the truth.

"What the hell!" Brian said aloud and asked for an IM.

BB: Hey, how ya doin' tonight?

PP: If I was smart I'd be asleep.

BB: But then you'd miss this once in a lifetime chance to talk to me.

PP: Cocky little bastard, aren't you?

BB: You have no idea.

PP: You're an artist?

BB: Yep.

PP: Any good?

BB: Well, they always say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

PP: So, are you any good?

BB: I'm making a living.

PP: Wow, in the art business, that's a major achievement.

BB: I know.

PP: You're kind of young to be a successful artist. Did you lie about your age?

BB: Yeah, I'm really 92.

PP: Oh, an old geezer.

BB: What do you do?

PP: Advertising.

BB: So you're in the art business too.

PP: Indirectly. I'm the idea man.

BB: How old are you?

PP: Older than you.

BB: 93, 94.

Brian snorted. This guy had a good sense of humor.

BB: Hey, are you still there, or did you fall asleep at the switch? At your age…

PP: I'm not that old.

BB: Good, I was worried for a minute.

PP: How come you're up so late or are you in Australia.

BB: No, Eastern Time Zone. Just like to sleep late, work in the afternoon and stay up half the night.

PP: Must be nice to make your own hours.

BB: One of the perks of being a starving artist.

PP: I thought you were making a living at your art.

BB: I am. I just haven't quite reached the level of luxury to which I would like to become accustomed.

Brian snorted. A man after his own heart.

PP: Do we ever reach that level?

BB: It doesn't take all that much to make me happy.

Brian hesitated. There was only one thing that would make him happy, and he could never have that. His legs would never work again.

BB: Are you there?

BB: What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?

PP: I'm tired. I have to go.

BB: Sure. I'm here most nights if you want to talk again.

Brian logged off. He didn't think he'd ever talk to BB again. He wasn't sure why, but something had hit too close to home.

\-----

The next morning Brian awoke with a start. He had a vague memory of his dream, of the accident. His head throbbed dully. He reached for the bottle of painkillers that he kept on the nightstand. He stared at the bottle for a moment and then set it back down. He didn't really need the strong ones right now, extra strength Tylenol would do for his headache. He downed a couple.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. He should have been up and working an hour ago. That fucking dream and his little encounter with BB on the internet had left him sleepless for too long last night.

Brian levered himself out of bed and into his chair. He smelled and so did the sheets. He had jerked off after he had talked to BB online. Something in his brain had pictured a slim, lithe body with a beautiful face attached. And it had a brain, something that so few of his sexual contacts ever had. BB had been stimulating and that had been scary.

Brian wheeled himself into the bathroom and took a piss. He then maneuvered himself onto the bench in the shower. It hadn't taken too much to outfit the loft for his new status in life. The bathroom had been one of the major things – grab bars and the built-in bench. He had had the sink lowered, as well as installing the urinal. He had fought that idea but soon discovered he liked it a lot more than pissing all over his shoes.

It was over two years since they had released him from the hospital and then rehab. He had come home to the completed renovations, accompanied only by the life sentence that they had given him. He would never walk again. His spine had been too badly damaged in the accident.

Brian turned on the shower and let the warm water pour over him. It was one of his favorite places to think. He remembered the days alone in the loft after he got out of the hospital. He had thought he would go crazy. He hated everything, hated himself, hated what he had become, hated the life he had been doomed to live. He refused to have visitors, didn't want to see his friends or have contact with anyone. The only person who got in was Trey, his physical therapist. 

Trey was a huge black man who spoke with brutal honesty and drove Brian with relentless cruelty to strengthen his arms and his body and his spirit. At first Brian just wanted to die. He saw no reason to exercise or try to improve. Trey had been at him constantly, haranguing him as a coward, a wuss, a baby, a fucking stupid son of a bitch.

After Trey had said that, Brian had asked if Trey had met his mother. That had been the beginning of the turnaround. It was the first time that Brian had shared a laugh with anyone, shared anything at all since the accident. Trey had said he hoped never to meet Mrs. Kinney if Brian thought she was a bitch, because her son had the monopoly on bitchiness as far as Trey was concerned. They had laughed then and become friends.

Brian still saw Trey about once a month. He would stop by and make sure Brian was keeping up with his exercise regimen. He would usually bring a new exercise for Brian to try, something that would supposedly increase Brian's muscle capacity or his endurance or his flexibility or his sexual prowess. 

That was a standing joke between them – Brian's sexual prowess. Trey was about as straight as they came and from what Brian had surmised quite the ladies man. He had a voracious sexual appetite not unlike Brian's, just not for the same sex. Once when Brian was feeling like shit and bemoaning his piss poor life, he had mentioned that he had been considered the stud of Liberty Avenue and now he couldn't even get it up. Trey had set him straight about that. He had read Brian's medical history. He told Brian that he needed to get off all the fucking medication he was taking and then he'd be able to get it up anytime he wanted to. Brian had been stunned. He had no idea that it was the meds that were making him impotent.

Trey told him about several other paraplegics that he had worked with who enjoyed very fulfilling sex lives. Brian wanted to know if any of them had been gay. None had. So Brian had said he didn't see how he could be the consummate top in the condition in which he found himself. He would never forget Trey's answer.

"I hear you're a pretty creative fella in advertising. Use your fucking imagination!"

And Brian had. He had weaned himself from the pain medication realizing that he didn't really need it for pain. He had needed it as a crutch because it dulled everything, including his thoughts and needs and even his sense of himself. He had Trey to thank for that realization. His life was still crap but at least he had learned to fuck again.

Brian turned off the water in the shower and reached for the towel that hung outside. He started to dry himself wondering what the rest of the day would hold for him. Most days he never left the loft. He worked on the computer keeping in contact with the office through his assistant Cynthia and through conference calls when necessary. Only occasionally did he go in to the office.

All this had come about gradually. He had spent over a year recovering from the accident. He had received a huge settlement from the insurance company of the drunk driver that hit him. He knew that fucking imbecile was in jail somewhere, although it had been almost three years since the accident. The bastard might already be free. He, on the other hand, would never be free – of his wheel chair.

Once he finally got back to the loft and started working with Trey, he began to take some interest in other things than just his own sorry ass. Trey had helped him a lot with taking his life back into his own hands, if not his own legs. Trey had kept at him about finding something he was interested in to fill his days. He didn't need to work. He had enough money to see him through whatever life he had left in him. But gradually that wasn't enough.

One day he had called Cynthia to see how she was and how things were going at Ryder. She was working with some other account exec and not liking it very much. She told him about the campaign they were working on and the lame ass idea that they had come up with. Almost immediately Brian had come up with something fifty times better. He and Cynthia had discussed ideas and she had had the art department draw them up. When it was ready Brian and Cynthia had presented it to Ryder. When they got the account Ryder had asked Brian to come back. Brian had negotiated the system they used now where he worked at home and came to the office only rarely.

Brian finished dressing and went to his desk where he put in his call to Cynthia. 

"Hey, Boss," she greeted him.

"All ready for tomorrow's presentation?" Brian asked, never one for pleasantries.

"All set. It's scheduled for ten."

"I'll be there if you still think it's necessary."

"This is a huge account, Brian. I know they are going to have questions for you, questions that neither Ryder nor I will be able to answer."

"Fine, I'll be there. How do the boards look?"

"Great. Do you want me to bring them by after work?"

"No, I trust your judgment."

"Okay, so I'll see you in the morning."

"Right," Brian said as he hung up. He didn't like going in to the office but tomorrow would be one of those days.

Brian spent the next couple of hours polishing up his spiel for tomorrow's meeting. He grabbed a quick sandwich before getting ready to go to his doctor's appointment at two pm.

Going anywhere was such a production. Brian loaded the saddlebags on his wheelchair with all his records and documentation that he needed for the doctor. He had to go every three months for this fucking check-up and review of his situation. He grabbed his keys from the bar and wheeled himself out to the elevator. He pushed the button to call it up to his floor and wheeled himself back to set the alarm and lock the loft door. By the time he had that done the elevator had arrived. He lifted the gate and got aboard. Silently he rode down to the main floor. 

As the elevator came to a stop he hesitated to raise the gate. Somebody was getting their mail. He had a fleeting glimpse of someone with blond hair and a slim body disappearing up the stairs. He felt his cock stir as he remembered his imaginary BB from the previous night.

"Stop it!" he muttered to his overactive dick.

He shoved up the gate and went to the mailboxes. He wondered who the blond was. Most of the names on the boxes were unknown to him. He had never been one to talk to his neighbors, and since the accident he had studiously avoided doing so. Some new people had moved in. He didn't know any of them. He stuffed his mail into the saddlebags noting that the supplements Trey had told him to order still had not arrived. He'd have to check on them on the internet.

He wheeled himself down the hall to the back door. He had paid to have a ramp installed there which gave him easy access to his van which awaited him in the covered parking area behind the building. He shook his head. Who would have thought Brian Kinney would be forced to drive a fucking van? He had fought it for awhile, but it turned out to be easier and more efficient to have the van, so he had given in. He hit the remote and the side of the van opened dropping the lift to the ground. He slid on top and used the remote again to raise himself into the van. Once aboard he pressed the button that retracted the lift and closed the door. 

The van contained only one seat, the passenger one. Brian couldn't remember when he had ever had a passenger in the van with him. He had had the salesman who sold him this totally un-fuckmobile. He had ridden in the passenger seat explaining to Brian how to use the hand controls, helping him get the feel of the cumbersome vehicle. No one else had ever been in it.

Brian set the brake on the wheelchair after he positioned himself in front of the steering wheel. He locked the chair into position and pulled the seatbelt around himself. He was off for another great adventure, or what passed for adventure in his for shit life. He turned the key in the ignition.


	2. Close to Home

Brian wheeled himself out of the van. He pushed the remote to raise the lift and close the door. Another click of the remote and it was all locked up till he needed it for the meeting at Ryder tomorrow. He turned his wheelchair and headed up the ramp. He wheeled down the hallway to the elevator. 

As he waited for the lift to return to the main floor, he thought about his doctor's appointment. He had been given a clean bill of health. Big fucking deal! He supposed all those exercises that Trey had forced him to do had paid off. He wasn't suffering from any of the internal problems that many paraplegics suffered being confined to a wheelchair and a sitting position all the time. Trey had insisted he do lots of lying and hanging exercises for that reason. He had made Brian do resistance exercises with his legs to keep them from atrophying as long as possible. All the exercises had gradually become part of Brian's daily routine. He spent anywhere from one and a half to two hours daily exercising. He still had to do today's workout. The doctor's appointment and getting up late had thrown him off his usual schedule.

The elevator arrived and he backed his wheelchair onto it. As he did, he heard the front door open and close and caught a glimpse of what he thought might be the same blond guy he had seen earlier. He felt his cock stir again.

"Shit!" he muttered aloud. He wished he could either get a good look at this guy or stop catching glimpses of him at all. Like most things in life the blond would probably be a big disappointment when he got a look at him. Then Brian could forget about him. Besides all Brian would need would be to see someone that he might desire who surely wouldn't desire him. The guy would just think he was some freak in a wheelchair, and he didn't need any reminders of that.

Brian spent the next two hours doing his exercises. He had to admit that he felt great afterwards. He always was exhausted and sweaty and exhilarated. He felt like he could do anything. He made his way to the shower.

By the time he came out of the shower it was early evening and he decided to order some food. Most of his dinners came from a list of local restaurants who did takeout and delivery. He had standing arrangements with all of them. He decided on Thai and placed his order.

While he waited he went over his presentation for Ryder once again. He knew it was good, but he wanted it to be perfect. His presentations were always effective, always had been. But since he had been in the wheelchair he felt the need for everything to be flawless. It was like each presentation was a test, a way of proving himself. He had to show everyone that he was still great at his job, that he could still be a power player even if his legs didn't work.

He glanced at the clock. Where was that fucking Tommy? He knew all the delivery men by name from each of the restaurants he used, and the delivery men knew him. They knew what he expected and what he would tolerate. Being late wasn't one of them. Tommy was usually very punctual and always got his order right. He got a huge tip as a result. This wasn't like Tommy.

"No tip for you tonight," Brian said aloud as he wheeled himself over to the loft door. He wondered where his dinner could be. He was about to call the restaurant when he thought he heard something through the door. Maybe one of the other tenants had let Tommy in. He pulled the door back.

He could hear an unfamiliar high-pitched voice in the stairwell. "I don't have apartment number," the voice said in broken English.

A soft sweet voice said, "Well, what's the name?"

"Kinney."

"I don't know what apartment that is," the soft spoken voice replied.

"I'm up here," Brian shouted down the stairwell. "If that's my fucking dinner, get it up here … now!"

Footsteps clattered up the stairs and a frazzled looking oriental man emerged on the landing.

"Who the fuck are you?" Brian demanded.

"Tuk," the man replied.

"Where's Tommy?"

"He on holiday."

"Where's my dinner … and it fucking better not be cold."

The man appeared to be frightened out of his wits. He extended the bag of food towards Brian apparently afraid to come closer. Brian wheeled through the doorway and grabbed the bag. He looked at the bill to see how much it was.

"Who were you talking to down there?" he demanded as he went back inside to get some money.

"I … I don't know. A blond man one floor below…" Tuk stammered.

"Here," Brian said thrusting twenty bucks at the man.

"Thank you, sir," Tuk replied turning to go down the stairs and get away from this angry man in a wheelchair. 

"Next time make sure Tommy delivers my food," Brian called after him and slammed the loft door with a resounding clang.

He dug into the bag drawing out the lukewarm containers. His appetite was definitely dampened by the soggy boxes of food. He scooped out some of his favorite food and nuked it. It wasn't bad all things considered.

While he ate watching TV his mind wandered to the person the delivery man had been talking to. He had said it was a blond man. It must be the guy he had caught a couple of glimpses of. He wondered again what he looked like and what kind of person he might be.

"Snap out of it, Kinney," he said shaking his head. He should know better than to start some kind of fucking fantasy about this guy. He had lived alone for almost two years. He didn't need friends or family. He grimaced as that thought crossed his mind. Except that he did have a family, sort of. Or he would in a few weeks. He wondered at the absurdity of it all.

He decided he needed to get his mind off this crap. He wheeled over to his desk and picked up the portable phone. He hit three on the speed dial.

"It's Kinney," he said when the ring was answered. "Yeah, the usual."

He hung up and went to clean up the remnants of his dinner. He was watching an old movie on TV about an hour later when there was a buzz from the front door. He went to the intercom and hit the button.

"Top floor," he said. It could only be one person. A tap on the loft door a few minutes later told him that his "date" had arrived. He pulled the door back.

"Hi, I'm…" the man began.

"No names," Brian interrupted him.

The man stepped into the loft and Brian closed the door. 

"Sweet place," the dark haired man observed.

"Yeah. Did they explain the deal to you?" Brian asked. Dark eyes studied him before the man nodded. "Money's on the counter. Get to work," Brian ordered.

The man pocketed the money before dropping to his knees in front of Brian's wheelchair. His hands reached for the fly on Brian's jeans. He yanked the buttons open and pulled out Brian's stiffening cock. He ran his hand up and down the shaft several times before his mouth engulfed the mushroom head.

Brian's head lolled back. One thing he had never lost was the pleasure of a new mouth on his dick. Experienced lips worked up and down the shaft tugging and sucking. Brian felt the man reach into his jeans and play with his balls. He let out a whiff of air as the beginnings of his orgasm built in his groin.

The man continued his expert work until Brian groaned loudly and shot his load into the warm mouth. After a minute he opened his eyes. His now flaccid cock still hung out of his jeans. He quickly tucked it away and buttoned up. He glanced around looking for the trick. He was leaning against the counter staring at Brian with a superior look.

"You can go now," Brian said abruptly giving a nod of his head towards the door.

The man shrugged. That had been short work for a hundred bucks. "I'm available for other things," the man said as he neared the door.

"I'm not!" Brian stated.

"Suit yourself."

"I always do."

"Call me if you need … relief," the man said pulling back the loft door.

"I don't do repeats."

The man shrugged and with a little smirk disappeared down the stairs.

Brian was pissed. What should have been a pleasurable experience had turned into something ugly. He knew the man's condescending attitude had been there from almost the minute he walked in. Brian should have told him to get the fuck out, but he wanted his dick sucked and the guy was there. The service he used always told the tricks the score and what Brian expected. He was a long standing customer. He expected to be treated better.

He grabbed his phone and hit the number three speed dial.

"I want to speak to the manager or supervisor or whatever the fuck he calls himself," Brian demanded before the guy on the other end could say anything more than, "Studs Unlimited".

"I'm the dispatcher, sir. May I help you?"

"You may fucking help me by putting me through to your fucking boss," Brian spit out.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian knew his name must have come up on call display. "Yes, there is a fucking problem. Now give me the boss."

"One moment please," the young man said and Brian found himself on hold.

"Fuck!"

Brian waited. As each second passed his anger grew. He was about to explode when a different voice said, "Mr. Kinney?"

"Who is this?" Brian demanded wanting to know how far up the chain of command he had managed to get.

"This is my company, Mr. Kinney. Darryl tells me there is some sort of problem."

"We've had an arrangement for over a year now. Why the fuck did you send me that asshole today?"

"Did Carlos do something wrong?"

"His fucking attitude was all wrong."

"I apologize, Mr. Kinney. I'll have a word with him."

"I don't give a fuck about Pedro. I don't ever want a repeat of someone with that attitude."

"Um … I'm not sure how to say this…"

"Say what?" Brian demanded.

"I know you never want a repeat trick. It's getting increasingly difficult to find someone new for you. Carlos has only been with us for a couple of weeks. He was the only one you haven't had before."

Brian seethed. "Then I will be taking my business elsewhere!" He slammed down the receiver. "Fuck!"

He hated it when things didn't go his way. He hated it when he had to make new arrangements with strangers. He liked his routine, as much as he liked anything in his life. This was going to be a colossal pain in the ass finding another service and getting them accustomed to his needs. He heaved a sigh. He'd look for somebody else tomorrow. Right now he needed to get the smell of Pedro off his dick. He needed some sleep before he went to Ryder in the morning. He needed to relax. That's what the fucking trick was supposed to have done.

"Shit!" he griped as he propelled the wheelchair up the ramp to his bedroom.

\-----

Hours later Brian lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. He was never going to get any sleep. He was pissed at the trick and at the fucking owner of the service, and at the lack of satisfaction he had received from both of them.

He hauled himself out of bed, knowing it was useless and counterproductive to keep lying there trying to sleep. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed part of it. He moved over to the computer and logged on. He went to the same chat site he had used the night before.

"Shit!" he muttered. BB was online.

The next thing he knew BB requested an IM. He was tempted to log off and leave the guy hanging. But … he had kind of enjoyed their exchange last night. It wasn't very often that he found someone with an actual brain that he could converse with.

PP: Are you always on here?

BB: Only when you are.

Brian snorted. This guy was quick.

PP: Been waiting long?

BB: My whole life.

PP: What's that supposed to mean?

BB: Nothing, I was just goofing around.

PP: You have a weird sense of humor.

BB: Is that why you like me?

PP: What makes you think I like you?

BB: You're talking to me again.

PP: You got me there. No accounting for taste.

BB: I'd say you have very good taste.

PP: And you'd be right.

BB: See!

Brian chuckled. This guy had a way of making himself seem like something special, while at the same time making Brian feel good for having chosen him. That was quite a, pardon the pun, trick.

BB: So what does PP stand for? Your initials?

PP: Maybe.

BB: Omigod! You're Spiderman!

PP: What?

BB: You know, Peter Parker.

Brian laughed. Jesus, it couldn't be Mikey on the other end of this computer, could it?

BB: Hey, Peter Parker, did I guess right?

PP: No, you fucking did not!

BB: So I take it that PP is not your initials.

PP: No!

BB: All right, all right, don't get testy.

PP: You're not even close.

BB: So, do the letters stand for something?

PP: Yes. Guess what.

Brian wanted to see what this guy would come up with. He seemed to have a good imagination.

BB: Hmm. Pretty Panda?

PP: Are you nuts?

BB: Popular Prognosticator.

PP: You think I'm a weatherman?

BB: That was a good one. Police Pig?

PP: Jesus Christ, no.

BB: I don't know. I'm running out of "P" words.

PP: And here I thought you had a good vocabulary.

BB: It doesn't mean peepee, does it?

PP: You're getting closer.

BB: Eeewwwww! I hope not. Are you going to tell me?

PP: Oh, all right. Perfect Pecker!

PP: Hey, stop laughing. That's exactly what I have.

That was the meaning Brian always used for his online acronym. Nobody ever knew what it really stood for.

BB: If you say so.

PP: I do say so.

BB: But does anybody else?

PP: Many satisfied customers have given me testimonials.

BB: I'll have to take your word for it.

PP: Yes, you will. So what does BB stand for?

BB: Your turn to guess.

PP: Brigitte Bardot.

BB: I'm not a girl.

PP: Neither is Brigitte.

BB: Who is that anyway?

PP: A French movie star from the sixties. She was a huge sex symbol.

BB: How old did you say you were?

PP: I didn't. I said I was older than you.

BB: Guess again.

PP: Blonde Bombshell.

Bardot had been called a blonde bombshell. Brian was also thinking of the blond from the lobby. He wondered why BB wasn't responding. Maybe this guy was blond too. Maybe he had guessed his web name.

PP: Did I guess it? Are you pissed off that I did?

BB: You were pretty close.

PP: Just close?

BB: Yeah.

PP: Blond Boy?

BB: You got it.

PP: I did?

BB: Well, sort of. That's one of the meanings.

PP: What's the other?

BB: Maybe I'll tell you someday.

PP: My initials have another meaning too.

BB: You're just saying that because I said mine have two meanings.

PP: No, mine do.

BB: We seem to have a lot in common.

PP: Yeah.

BB: Someday we should really come clean.

PP: I need to go. I have a big presentation tomorrow.

BB: Good luck.

PP: Thanks.

Brian logged off. He did seem to have some things in common with this guy. But there also were enormous differences. He could almost forget his shitty existence when he talked to BB. That didn't happen very often. It wouldn't matter though. They'd never meet.

Brian wheeled himself up to the bedroom. He hoped he could get a couple of hours of sleep before he left for Ryder.


	3. Close to Home

The presentation was over. It had gone extremely well. Cynthia came over to Brian.

"Well done, Boss! They're signing the contract now," she said.

"Good."

"Um …"

"What? Spit it out!"

"They want to take you and Ryder out to lunch."

"I don't do lunch," Brian said with a scowl.

"It's a five million dollar account, Brian."

"So…!"

"Okay, I'll tell them … something."

"Wait," Brian said hesitantly. "I'll go, but make sure they pick a place that's wheelchair accessible."

"I'll tell Ryder."

"He fucking well should know already."

When they arrived at a nearby restaurant, Brian knew immediately that this had been a mistake. He hadn't been to this restaurant since his accident, but their waiter was one he had fucked in a stall in the restroom the last time he had been there. He could tell the waiter recognized him, but that really hadn't been his worry. He knew if the guy wanted to keep his job, he'd keep his mouth shut. What he didn't want to see, but what was clearly evident on the waiter's face, was the look of pity and of sudden superiority. He was glad the wheelchair belonged to Brian and not him.

Brian wanted to run. This was why he never went out in public. He had fucked most of gay Pittsburgh in his heyday, and he was constantly bumping into former tricks. The look on their faces always sickened him, made him want to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. This guy was no exception.

"Bring me a double Chivas Regal," he said curtly to the waiter. He might as well have good scotch. The clients were paying and he sure as shit needed something to fortify himself.

Once the drink orders were taken and the waiter thankfully disappeared, the client decided to make small talk.

"That was an excellent presentation this morning, Brian."

"Thanks," Brian replied.

"I have been very impressed with your ideas and … with you."

"Thanks again, Mr. Halvorson," Brian replied sounding much more gracious than he actually felt. All he wanted to do was get out of there, back to the safety and anonymity of the loft.

"How long have you been in a wheelchair?" Mr. Halvorson asked.

Brian groaned inwardly. Here it came. He knew this spiel off by heart. "What happened? Did they send the drunk to prison? How brave you are! How do you manage? And to think you hold such a high powered job."

Brian answered all the questions doing his best to keep his temper under control. He wanted to shout at Halvorson that he was still a man, that his legs didn't work but his brain did, that he lived a life just like everybody else. Instead he was polite and seemingly friendly although somewhat aloof. Ryder smiled approvingly. Brian picked at his lunch knowing that he wanted to puke.

When lunch was mercifully over Halvorson and his entourage paid the bill and took their leave. Brian and Ryder sat at the table, Ryder finishing his coffee.

"You handled that very well, Brian," Ryder congratulated him.

"Next time, you fucking make it abundantly clear that I don't go out for lunch," Brian spat out. "I thought I made it crystal clear to you that business lunches are no longer part of my job description."

"Brian, I…"

"Don't bother, Marty. This is never to happen again."

"But…"

Brian spun his chair around and headed for the door. As he wheeled by he saw the waiter give him a sympathetic glance. Brian wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he bit his tongue and kept going. By the time he had himself seated in his van he was shaking with anger and frustration. He turned the key in the ignition but then just sat there. He wanted to cry. He wanted to die. He tried to breathe but his chest hurt. He blinked, hard, trying to clear his vision. He put the van in gear and started for home.

The ride only took about thirty minutes but it was thirty minutes too long. When Brian finally turned onto Tremont he let out an audible sigh. He was fucking exhausted. This kind of crap knocked the stuffing out of him.

To get to the covered parking he had to drive past the loft building and turn into the laneway at the other side. As he neared the front door he noticed a blond head walking up the steps. The man pulled the door open and entered the building. It had to be his phantom blond. How many times was he going to see him before he could actually get a good look at him?

Brian parked the van and entered the building. He glanced around looking to see if the blond was anywhere around. There was no sign of him. Brian grabbed his mail from his box. He studied the names on the other mailboxes. There weren't that many people in the building, but there was really only one name that he recognized, someone who had lived there longer than he had. He wasn't even sure that he could put a face to that name. None of them sounded like his blond, although what he thought his name might be was a mystery.

His fucking supplements still had not arrived either. He made a mental note to contact the company and find out where they were. All he wanted to do at the moment though was to lie down. He had just about worn himself out, especially since he got almost no sleep the night before.

Brian awoke to darkness. He had slept the afternoon away. It was almost eight o'clock at night.

"Fuck," he muttered. Now he would most likely be up all night. He dragged out the remnants of his Thai takeout and nuked it. He ate in front of the television set watching some program that barely registered.

His mind kept replaying the lunch with Halvorson over and over again. The same predictable condescending questions, the smirking waiter, the stupidity of Marty – none of them got it. None of them understood what it was like to be trapped in this chair, to have people turn away afraid to even look at the cripple, afraid to acknowledge that he even existed. Then there was the group with their looks of pity. He hated that. He had never done pity in any way shape or form. Pity made his dick soft, or was that self-pity? Shit! He needed to do his exercises. Maybe they would take his mind off his woes and make him feel better.

A few hours later Brian had completed his exercises and had a shower. He hoped he would be tired enough to want to go to bed, but no such luck. The clock told him it was a little after 1 am. 

He decided to check on the package of supplements that he had been waiting for. The site merely told him that it had been shipped by UPS. He sent them a nasty e-mail demanding to know when he would receive their product. If it wasn't soon, they could shove it up their ass.

Feeling decidedly better having gotten that off his chest, Brian thought he would check out who was online tonight. He wondered if BB would be there. He kind of liked talking to the little smartass. He logged on.

BB asked for an IM almost immediately. Brian snorted, but secretly it pleased him that BB seemed keen to talk to him.

PP: Waiting for me again? You need to get a life.

BB: I have a life, thank you very much.

PP: So what are you doing on here this time of night?

BB: Talking to you.

PP: You should be out dancing or fucking.

BB: Is that what you would normally be doing?

PP: Yeah.

No one said he had to tell the truth, and that's what he would be doing if he could.

BB: So, you're a club kind of person?

PP: Guess you could say that. You?

BB: Not really. I'm too busy.

PP: Doing what?

BB: Talking to you.

PP: Are you gay?

BB: You found me on a gay chat site, didn't you?

PP: Answer the question.

BB: Yes. Are you?

PP: Oh, I'm a merry little devil.

BB: I believe the devil part.

PP: Why? I'm sweet.

BB: I think you're evil.

PP: Snort! What makes you say that?

BB: Anyone who calls himself Perfect Pecker.

PP: Can't be all bad?

BB: Can be very bad.

PP: Which can be very good.

BB: Under the right circumstances.

PP: What circumstances?

BB: How did your presentation go?

PP: Changing the subject?

BB: Maybe, but I wondered how it went?

PP: You have a good memory.

BB: I remember everything.

PP: It went okay.

BB: Just okay? I would have thought it would be fabulous!

PP: Now I know you're gay.

BB: Huh?

PP: Fabulous!

BB: Oh! But you were fabulous, right?

PP: As always.

BB: And modest too.

PP: What did you do today?

BB: I'm getting ready for a show.

PP: Of your art?

BB: No, I'm doing the lead in Cancan! Of course it's an art show.

PP: I'm impressed.

BB: Don't be. I'm one of five young artists being showcased at a local gallery.

PP: That's still an achievement.

BB: I suppose.

PP: Now you are being too modest.

BB: Okay, so we're both fabulous.

PP: You got that right.

BB: God, your ego is enormous.

PP: Used to be.

BB: What does that mean?

Brian couldn't believe he had let that out. He had had an enormous ego, but it was mostly bravado to cover up things he didn't want to be questioned about. He was fabulous at his job. That was where he gained his confidence and his status. That let him make himself into anything he wanted to be.

BB: Hello?

BB: Are you there?

BB: What happened?

PP: I have to go.

BB: What's wrong?

PP: Good night.

Brian logged off without waiting for BB to respond. Once again this blond had hit a nerve, had made him look at things that cut to the core. The guy didn't know him from Adam, yet he seemed to be able to hone into things that hit too close to home.

Brian went to his stash and rolled a joint. He sucked a lungful of the sweet smoke. He could feel the effects begin. His shoulders relaxed and he let his mind wander. He didn't do pot much anymore, but sometimes there was nothing like it. If he only had somebody to fuck, everything would be perfect.

That thought brought him back to the fact that he had fired his hustler service. He still had to find another one, but not tonight. It looked like his dick was going to get majorly reacquainted with his right hand.

\-----

The alarm woke Brian at seven. He was determined to get in his exercises before he called in to the office. His routine had been knocked off course by the trip to Ryder. He would do his exercises and get back on track.

When he finally called in to the office, it was a little after nine. He was freshly showered and feeling quite virtuous.

"Was Ryder pissed with me?" Brian asked after the usual preliminaries.

"Not that I know of. What did you do?" Cynthia asked.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Brian asked immediately changing the subject. If Ryder hadn't mentioned it, he certainly wasn't going to.

"The chewable vitamins," she replied having learned long ago not to pursue a topic when Brian changed the subject. She'd see what she could find out through the grapevine later.

"Fuck!" Brian reacted. "Have Bob and Brad made another mess?"

"I'm afraid so."

"You know, the one thing I really miss about coming in to the office is chewing out those two screw-ups. Hey, maybe I can do something with 'chewing out' and 'chewable vitamins'".

Cynthia smiled. "I guess you'll be in touch with B and B later? Should I warn them?"

"Whatever," Brian replied realizing she had said BB. His brain immediately went to the conversation on the internet last night.

"I'll fax you their ideas."

"If you have to…" Brian replied.

"Bye, Boss."

Brian hung up still thinking about his blond boy. He was being inundated with blonds.

The phone rang. The phone hardly ever rang. He had deliberately driven all his friends and acquaintances away. He didn't want their help or their pity, so he had refused to talk to any of them, except one. He looked at the caller ID – another blond.

"What do you want?" he said into the phone.

"Hello to you too, asshole."

"I said what do you want, Lindsay? Make it fast."

"I called to remind you that there's only about two weeks till D-Day."

"Are you invading Europe?" Brian asked knowing that would piss her off.

"Delivery Day," she yelled.

"All right! I get it. So what?"

"I want you there."

"No fucking way!"

"Please, Brian," she begged.

"No."

"This is your child too."

"What about your husband?"

"Melanie will be there of course, but I want you too. You need to see your son or daughter."

"I don't fucking need anything!"

"Brian…"

"I told you when I agreed to provide the sperm that I wanted no part of this baby. It's yours."

"But Brian, it is a part of you too. The baby deserves to know its father."

"And what child would want a fucking cripple for a father? And don't fucking tell me it doesn't matter, because it does."

She had been about to say exactly that. "Will you at least think about coming to the hospital when I go into labor? I'll make sure Mel calls you."

"Don't do me any fucking favors."

Brian shut the phone off and set it down. He hadn't wanted to be the sperm donor, but Lindsay could always get him to do stuff. He knew he was in for trouble the moment she had propositioned him, but he had given in. Now he would have to suffer the fucking consequences.


	4. Close to Home

Brian didn't contact BB for a couple of days. He never even looked to see if he was logged on. Instead Brian worked trying to fix the colossal mess Bob and Brad had made of the vitamin account.

He went to his mailbox once, still not receiving his supplements and seeing nothing of his phantom blond. He seemed to be inundated with blonds these days, but none of them gave him any satisfaction. 

He had made contact with another hustler service. That had been a barrel of laughs. When he had told them his requirements, there had been a long pause. He hadn't liked that at all. It had been extremely hard for him to admit that he was in a wheelchair and needed somebody that wouldn't freak out over that. He also made it clear that he wanted no repeats and no names. All the trick would get was the address and a description of the acts he was required to perform. Brian explained that usually he wanted a blowjob, but sometimes he might want more. He would indicate what he wanted when he called.

Brian was expecting someone from the agency at ten o'clock. Meanwhile he was finishing up some adjustments to the set of ads he had come up with for the chewable vitamins. He had finally scrapped everything Bob and Brad had done and come up with a new idea. He really needed to get Ryder to employ some better help. He wondered if Bob and Brad were related to Marty. There had to be some reason he had kept them around this long.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door. He glanced at the time on the computer. It was 9:47. He had told that fucking agency to be punctual not early. And how the fuck did this guy get up to his door? This was supposed to be a secure building.

"Come in!" Brian barked. "It's open."

He continued to finish what he was doing on the computer. The goddam hustler could wait since apparently he hadn't learned to tell time yet.

Brian heard the loft door slide back. There was silence after that.

"Good," Brian thought, "at least he knows enough to keep his mouth shut."

"Excuse me," a soft voice said.

"Just a minute," Brian responded in a tone brooking no question. There was silence again.

After he finished the detail he was working on, Brian flipped through a few screens on the computer just to make the hustler wait. Finally he turned his head. His breath caught in his throat at the vision that stood by the counter. He felt his groin twist and his cock start to rise. He cleared his throat trying to gain some control.

"You're early," he managed to say at last.

"What?" the beautiful blond asked frowning.

"Never mind," Brian said. He looked the young man up and down. His cock definitely liked what it saw. "Do you always bring your shopping with you?" Brian asked noting the package that the blond held in his hands.

"Excuse me?" blondie asked, another frown creasing his forehead. "I think you…"

"Put the package on the counter, pick up your money and get to work," Brian interrupted him.

"You seem to have the wrong idea," the blond stated.

"I do?"

"I brought this for you," blondie said extending the package.

"Hustlers don't usually bring gifts to their clients," Brian stated with a sneer and wheeled himself out from behind the computer desk. He saw the blond's eyes get very large as the wheelchair registered. Fuck! He thought he had warned the service to prepare the trick ahead of time.

"Hustler? I … I'm your neighbor, Justin Taylor. I live downstairs."

"My neighbor?"

"Yeah, somebody left this package at my door. I heard you yell at the delivery man the other night, so I knew you lived up here. This package is for Brian Kinney. That's you, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Brian wheeled over to the blond and took the package. He watched Justin Taylor's reaction to the wheelchair. After the initial surprise Brian couldn't detect pity or fear. That surprised him.

"I think they somehow got our apartments mixed up," Justin said.

"It's my supplements," Brian noted aloud as he read the return address on the package.

"Vitamins?"

"Yeah," Brian said defensively.

"Let me know if they're any good. My mother's always ragging on me about what I eat and supplementing it with vitamins."

Brian snorted. "I'll write you a review."

"I better get out of your way," Justin said turning to leave.

"Wait," Brian said impulsively. He knew this was the blond he had been catching glimpses of. He didn't want him to get away now that he had finally got a look at him, and quite a look he provided. "Thanks for bringing this up."

"No problem," Justin said with a dazzling smile. Brian felt his cock jump to attention. He squirmed in his chair. "It's kind of nice to meet someone else who lives here. It's not exactly the friendliest place I've ever seen."

"Want to do coffee?" Brian asked intending to be snarky, but it didn't really sound that way.

"That would be nice," Justin said with another radiant smile.

Just at that moment there was the sound of the buzzer indicating someone was downstairs. Brian wheeled over to answer it. Justin watched him.

"Yeah," Brian said into the intercom.

"I'm from the service," a male voice replied. That was what Brian had told them to say.

Brian hesitated. He would like to spend more time with Justin. In fact there were a lot of things he would like to do with and to Justin Taylor.

"I'll get out of your way," Justin said graciously. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," Brian replied and he actually meant it. "Top floor," he said into the intercom.

Justin walked out of the loft. Brian watched the luscious looking ass disappear down the stairs. He groaned audibly. This guy from the service better be good.

A minute or two later his "date" appeared. The guy was all right looking. He had a well developed chest that would be nice to run his hands over. Too bad he wasn't blond. He had dark hair that was a little oily looking, not like Justin's flowing locks. His mouth looked firm and inviting but not as lush as the one that had just left. He smiled which was nice, but not as nice as another smile he had just witnessed. No looks of loathing or pity. That was good. His ass was as flat as a board. A much, much better ass had just disappeared down the stairs. Brian shook his head. What the hell was he thinking?

"Money's on the counter," Brian said staring at the young man.

The guy picked up the cash. "What do you want first?"

"Start with a blowjob," Brian stated. "We'll see how that goes."

"Want me naked?" the guy asked.

"Yeah," Brian said as he pulled the loft door closed.

By the time Brian turned his chair around, the guy stood naked in front of him. He was quite well endowed, but not as good as Brian. Brian wondered what the blond had hidden inside his jeans.

"Ahh," he groaned. The hustler already had his dick in his mouth.

The guy was no slouch. He knew what he was doing. Brian slid down in his chair allowing the familiar and welcome feelings to engulf him. As his orgasm built he found himself picturing the blond, Justin, on his knees in front of him. His hand reached out to touch the blond hair, to feel its texture and to allow it to sift through his fingers. The heat in his groin continued to grow. The tongue on his slit came out of that mouth that smiled so radiantly at him.

And then he was coming, again and again and again. He slumped even lower in his chair as he finished shooting. He felt Justin suck the last of his essence from his dick. He sighed in contentment. His hand reached out and pulled the blond up so he could kiss those full lips. As he began the kiss, he felt a reluctance on Justin's part and opened his eyes.

It wasn't Justin. He broke the kiss. It was the hustler smiling at him like he had just done something wonderful. Fuck! He had been so sure… He was losing his fucking mind.

"That was a good one," the hustler grinned, "but I'm not into kissing."

"Me either," Brian stated. "At least not with you," he thought.

"Want to fuck me?" the hustler asked.

"That's what I'm paying you for," Brian said curtly.

The hustler blinked but didn't take the bait. "Where?" he asked resuming his all professional veneer.

"Up there," Brian said pointing to the bedroom.

"Um … do you know how we'll do this?"

Brian groaned inwardly. "Of course I do. Get moving." He suddenly wanted this to be over.

Brian wheeled up the ramp and began removing his clothes. He levered himself onto the bed. The hustler watched him apparently fascinated by how Brian did things. That ticked Brian off. He stretched out on his back noting that his cock no longer seemed to be responding to this guy. Maybe he should try thinking about the blond. Shit!

"Get me hard!" Brian ordered bluntly.

The hustler climbed onto the bed with Brian. He began by sucking on his nipples, nipping and squeezing, all the typical stuff. Brian closed his eyes and envisioned that ass going down the stairs. He could feel his cock stiffening. 

The hustler whispered, "Yeah, that's it," apparently pleased with himself for what was happening.

Brian felt the hustler's mouth on his dick. He had to remember it was this guy, but it was so much easier to imagine it was the blond … Justin. He had to remember that name. He kept his eyes closed and let his mind take him where his body didn't seem to want to go.

"You're hard," the hustler said.

"I fucking know that," Brian barked. He didn't need to be told and he didn't like having his little fantasy interrupted. "Ride it!" he ordered.

He heard the condom package being ripped open and then rolled on his dick. He kept his eyes closed willing the blond to come back and pleasure him. He felt Justin's hand lube his cock. He wished he could give the blond a good rimming before they did this, but his fantasy didn't extend that far. 

"Hold it still," a soft voice whispered.

He almost whispered, "Justin," in response, but he caught himself. He held his dick pointing straight up and felt the hustler straddle him and then lower himself onto it. He let out a breath as Justin sat down. He was fully inside that ass. He felt the first up and down movement and groaned in satisfaction. It had been a while since he had done this. His mind was on overload. He loved the feel of a warm, tight ass. He loved the friction, the tension and release. He could picture Justin bouncing above him and he was coming and coming and coming.

He felt the hustler jerk off a couple of times and then shoot his load. Shit! It shouldn't be him. It should be Justin. He opened his eyes and looked at the hustler. He was still sitting on Brian's now deflated dick, cum on his own chest and some on Brian's. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open.

"Hey!" Brian said. The eyes came open with a start.

"That was fucking fantastic for a…" the hustler stopped himself.

"Cripple," Brian said glaring at him. "Get off me," he ordered."

The hustler shifted and stood up. "Can I take a shower? I got a little wet," he half giggled.

"Wear it proudly," Brian said sarcastically. "Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me. Now!" Brian shouted at him.

The hustler began to move away grabbing some tissues from the nightstand to wipe himself off. Brian was sure he heard the word asshole but he let it go. He didn't want an argument. He just wanted the guy gone. 

"Close the door behind you," Brian yelled when the hustler disappeared from view. A minute or two later he heard it slam shut. "That went really well," Brian muttered to himself.

He lay back on the bed and used a tissue to clean himself up. Somehow he had managed to have sex with one guy while fantasizing about another, and pissing both of them off. If it wasn't so pathetic it would be funny. He needed a shower, a good long one where he could do some serious thinking and get his house in order.

Hours later Brian was once again in bed. He had run the scenes from tonight through his head until he thought his brain would explode. All that managed to do was make him more confused. The hustler had been a good fuck. He did everything that Brian had requested, had even tried to compliment him. But, and it was a big but, Brian had had to dream about the blond from downstairs in order to get it up and get through what should have been a pleasurable experience. What the fuck did that mean? What was he going to do about Justin? Where had everything come undone?

If he had to admit it, it was when Justin fucking Taylor had walked through the loft door. And what was he going to do about that? Absolutely nothing. He couldn't take that chance. He couldn't bear it if the blond turned him down. He was screwed, and he knew it.

He hauled himself out of his bed and went to the computer. He might as well see if his other blond was online. With any luck at all he could piss him off too. Three for three must be some kind of record.

Sure enough BB was there. Brian requested an IM.

BB: Hey  
PP: Hey back. That's not up to your usual greeting. Weren't you waiting for me?

BB: Sure.

PP: What's wrong?

BB: Nothing.

PP: You don't sound like yourself.

BB: And how would you know what I sound like?

PP: Testy, aren't you?

BB: Fuck off!

PP: Christ, what's eating your ass?

BB: Not the person I want to.

PP: Snort! It must be young love.

BB: In case you didn't hear me the first time, fuck off!

PP: Why are you talking to me if you're in such a bad mood?

BB: Beats me.

PP: Why don't you just tell me what's going on?

BB: I met someone tonight.

PP: Isn't that a good thing?

BB: Not when he's not the least bit interested.

PP: Then fuck him!

BB: I'd like to.

PP: But he's not interested?

BB: Not so you'd notice.

PP: What happened?

BB: Let's just say he was more interested in someone else than me.

PP: And you want a relationship?

BB: I just fucking met him. I don't know what I want. He didn't give me the time of day.

PP: Then forget him.

BB: Easy for you to say.

Not so easy. Brian thought about the blond downstairs. He might like to get to know him, but that would never happen. He wasn't prepared to take the chance.

PP: So what are you going to do?

BB: Don't know. What do you suggest?

PP: I'm the last person you should be asking about this.

BB: Why? Don't you have someone in your life?

PP: No, and I don't want anyone.

BB: That's sad.

PP: Fuck you too. That's my choice.

BB: You're right. I should keep my opinions to myself.

PP: I didn't mean that exactly. 

BB: So should I try to forget this guy?

PP: I would. (If only he could. He'd keep working on doing just that.)

BB: I'm not sure I can.

PP: You have two choices as far as I can tell – forget him or go after him. Or maybe a third – keep on whining.

BB: Fuck you. I don't whine. I was just asking for your fucking opinion.

PP: Sounded like whining to me.

The screen indicated that BB had terminated the chat. He was gone. Brian snorted. Three for three at pissing people off! That was a record even for him.


	5. Close to Home

A couple of days later Brian was working on his computer. He had spent the morning and most of the afternoon putting the finishing touches on his chewable vitamin ads. They were quite humorous. At least Brian thought so.

There was a knock on the loft door.

"Fuck!" he said aloud.

What was going on? He'd had more contact with the outside world in the last few days than he'd had in months. Who had gotten in this time?

"Come in at your own peril. It's open."

The loft door slid back and there he was. Brian had the same reaction he had felt the first time he had laid eyes on the blond vision. His groin tightened and his breath caught in his throat. He wondered what would happen if his other senses ever got involved. If he could touch and smell and taste Justin Taylor, he would probably explode.

"What the fuck do you want?" Brian asked harshly, trying to cover up the feelings coursing through him. Justin looked shocked. He opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped. "Are you making more deliveries?" Brian asked indicating the bag Justin held in his hand.

Brian saw Justin's blue eyes grow dark. The blond took a couple of steps towards him. "Pardon my mistake, Mr. Kinney, but I was under the impression that you wanted to have coffee sometime. I brought some fucking muffins, so enjoy them!" With that he shoved them hard into Brian's chest smashing them into little pieces. "If you don't choke on them, then shove them up your goddam ass!"

With that he turned on his heel and stomped out of the loft slamming the door behind him. 

Brian stared at the loft door. What the fuck had he done? He picked up the bag from his lap. The blond had come for a visit and he had driven him away … again. Brian wheeled into the kitchen and flung the bag and its shattered contents into the garbage can. Maybe this was for the best. Now he wouldn't have to deal with the blond. He'd never come back after that little exchange. If he could just forget him, then his life could go back to the nice orderly existence he had had before.

What had he told BB the other night – forget him or go after him or stop whining? He realized that if anybody else had been there what he was doing could be considered whining. Could you whine to yourself? Fuck! This Justin Taylor was an accident waiting to happen and he didn't want anything more to do with accidents.

\-----

The next day he had a call from Trey who wanted to come over for his monthly visit. They arranged for him to arrive about six o'clock after he finished work. Brian said he would provide dinner. Trey's visits now were more like social calls than patient/therapist, and that suited both of them fine. They liked each other.

When Trey arrived Brian buzzed him up. Brian couldn't help but think that he had had more socialization in the last few days than he had had in the previous six months. Few people came to the loft other than Trey and Cynthia. He rarely got phone calls except for contact with work. He went out only when necessary. He had contracted services for groceries, takeout food, prescription drugs, hustlers. He did just about everything by telephone or over the internet.

The tap on the door told him Trey had made his way up. Brian pulled the door back to find a smiling Trey standing behind a wheelchair.

"What the fuck is that?" Brian asked.

"I thought you might like to try it out. It's state of the art," Trey grinned.

"Why would I want a new one of these fucking things?" Brian asked with a grimace.

"Look at it. It's sleek, compact, efficient, beautiful."

"As if…"

"Hey, this is the Ferrari of wheelchairs."

"Hmpff," was Brian's reaction.

"I thought you were into designer creations," Trey coaxed.

"That was in my old life." 

Trey ignored that remark. "This is top of the line – the best!"

"Will you shut up about the fucking thing!"

"If you take it for a test drive."

"Fuck!" Brian levered himself onto the padded seat knowing it was easier to do it right away than spend all evening arguing with Trey. He'd lose anyway. He always did. The chair was surprisingly comfortable. 

Trey smiled to himself. He knew Brian would like it.

"It doesn't have any arms," Brian observed.

"They get in the way of your arms," Trey replied with a grin. "This baby is built for speed. Take it for a run."

Brian snorted but he started wheeling across the loft. One stroke of his arm and he was at the other end. It really was fast and easy. "Fast and easy," Brian said aloud. 

"Hey, wasn't that your motto?" Trey teased.

"I'll ignore that, but fuck you on principle."

"You should be so lucky."

"So what's this one called?" Brian had learned they all had names.

"Quickie Ti Titanium."

"A quickie was always good for me," Brian replied his tongue in cheek.

"See, fast and easy," Trey smiled. He liked the sarcastic Brian. Then he wasn't feeling sorry for himself. "It refers to the speed," he added seriously.

"Whatever. How much?"

"A little over two as is, but there's a shitload of options you can get."

"Which will add up to about three thousand by the time we're done," Brian noted.

"If you kept the other chair for certain things you wouldn't need to get arms or backpacks or other shit for this one."

"But I might want other shit."

"I'll give you their website. You can shop to your heart's content."

The buzzer went off.

"That'll be dinner. Buzz him up while I take this for a couple more turns around the loft."

Trey pushed the buzzer and spoke to the deliveryman. He watched Brian wheel around the loft, race up the ramp to the bedroom and come flying down again. He knew he had made the right decision bringing the chair. Brian wheeled over to the door in time to give the delivery guy a tip. He had the dinner added to his credit card.

They ate in comfortable silence for a bit. Trey watched Brian. Something seemed a little off.

"What's up?" Trey asked. "You seem … quiet."

"Nothing."

"You can't shit me. I know when something's up. Tell me."

"Lindsay will be delivering the baby in a little over a week," Brian said setting down his plate.

"Congratulations, papa."

"Fuck off!"

"Isn't a child a reason for celebration?"

"I didn't want this baby."

"Then why did you do it?" Trey knew the whole story.

"Lindsay always gets me to do things."

"That's a load of crap, Brian. You, of all people, never do anything you don't really want to do. So what's bugging you?"

"She wants me to come to the hospital when she goes into labor."

"So go."

"You think everything is so fucking easy."

"I know it isn't half as hard as you make it."

Brian glowered at him. "You think I should go?"

"It's a once in a lifetime experience."

"I don't know."

"I'm sure you don't," Trey sighed, "but don't dismiss it out of hand. Think about it. You can be there at the birth of your son or daughter."

Brian appeared to be thinking. He said nothing for quite a while.

"Is that all that's bugging you?"

Brian hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he should tell Trey about the blond downstairs and how he had treated him. He kind of wanted to discuss it with someone, and he could always depend on Trey for a truthful opinion.

"I had a visitor a couple of days ago," he said.

"No wonder you're off your game." Brian glared at him. "And he actually got into the inner sanctum?"

"How did you know it was a he?"

"Didn't think you'd be starting to entertain the ladies at this late date."

"I'll leave the ladies to you," Brian smirked. "He lives in the building."

"And you liked him."

"Sort of. My dick certainly did."

"Ah, physical attraction – a powerful force."

"You don't say!" Brian snarked.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I drove him away."

"Then you're a bigger fucking idiot than I could ever have imagined."

Brian frowned. "I didn't think there was any point in getting to know him."

"So you drove him off to make sure that couldn't possibly happen." Brian nodded. Trey knew Brian's fear of rejection only too well. He understood the isolation and loneliness that Brian felt he was doomed to. "Is that the way you want to leave it?"

"I … I can't stop thinking about him."

"You want to see him again?"

"I don't know."

"Sure you do. You're just afraid to admit it."

"You know I don't believe in love."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah. Give it a rest. If you had a chance for happy ever after you'd take it just like everybody else."

"I fucking would not!"

"Brian, you have as much right to be happy and have companionship and, yes, love as anyone else. Don't sell yourself short. Give it a chance."

When Trey left a little while later Brian had a new wheelchair and a lot to think about.

\-----

After Trey left Brian tried to watch some television and he tried to listen to some music, but his mind kept wandering back to the words Trey had used. He was entitled to some happiness. He didn't really believe that. His fucking life would disprove it. But the hope of it was still there. He wasn't sure how you ever got rid of that bit of hope.

He had really pissed Justin Taylor off. He didn't know if there was any hope of repairing that. He wasn't sure he wanted to put forth the effort to try to make it right. He could always start with something that might be a little easier. He could see if he could make up with BB. That might be worth a try, and it might help decide what to do about Justin, depending on his success or failure with the computer blond.

Somewhat apprehensively he logged on. Sure enough BB was on the site. He waited a few minutes to see if BB might contact him. No such luck! All of a sudden BB logged off. Brian sighed. He must be avoiding PP and the easiest way to do that was to be unavailable.

Brian was still sitting in his new wheelchair. He started pushing the wheels as hard as he could. He began flying around the loft flirting with crashing into the walls or tipping over. He didn't care. It was exciting to take a risk. It felt wonderful to fly. He had been living in safety, and fear, for so long now. Maybe he should go outside and race up and down the sidewalks. He never went out. It had been far too long since he had felt the wind on his face.

Brian pulled back the loft door, took a deep breath and called for the elevator. He locked the loft door and pocketed his keys. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was after midnight so there should be few people on the street. He was going to do this. He rode the elevator to the ground floor. He turned towards the front door when he realized there were still steps there, no ramp. He had never had one installed. He never wanted to go out at all and when he had to he always took the van. He'd go the back way.

Down the hall, out the back door, down the ramp, along the driveway and he was free. He glanced up and down the street wondering which way to go. Nobody was walking or loitering about. He had his newfound freedom all to himself. He turned left.

The sidewalk wasn't exactly smooth but he sped along oblivious to the potential hazards ahead. He raced to the corner savoring the cool dampness of the night air. At the corner he stopped, deciding if he would cross or go back. He turned around and decided to race the length of the block to the opposite corner. 

His arms pumped and his Ferrari responded. He sped like the wind, bumpy terrain and all. The new chair was extremely fast and stable. He was at the other corner in no time. He stopped to take a few deep breaths. That felt exactly like another one. He whipped the chair around and sped back to the first corner. He stopped there gulping for air. He'd never win a marathon the shape he was in. He made a decision to do this every night, or day. He could do it in the daytime too, maybe ride the running track in the park. He laughed out loud and raced back to the other corner. Once there he really was out of breath. He began making his way back to the loft building moving at a slower but steady pace. He felt great.

As he neared the loft someone stepped out from the doorway. It was his blond. 

"Having fun?" Justin asked.

"Actually yes. Are you spying on me?"

"I was out for a walk and I saw you down the street. You were going at quite a clip."

"This is my new Ferrari. I was taking it for a spin."

"Looked like fun."

"Want a ride?" Brian teased. Justin hesitated. "What's wrong? Does the chair scare you, or just what's in it?" Brian scowled.

"Neither," Justin replied staring into Brian's eyes. "I'd love a ride, but I don't want to hurt your legs."

"If that's your worry, climb aboard. They're dead. You can't hurt them." Brian held his arms out to the side leaving his empty lap as invitation.

Justin hesitated for a moment. Then that radiant smile lit up his face and Brian found his lap full of that delicious bottom. He could feel his cock stiffening beneath Justin's ass. He wondered if the blond could too.

Justin placed his arm around Brian's neck, looked into his face and stated, "Let's go."

"Any place in particular?"

"I'm at your mercy. Do with me what you will," Justin laughed. 

Brian heard the words but he felt another invitation behind them. Could that be possible? He began wheeling them towards the corner.

"Faster," Justin called. "Faster!"

By the time they reached the corner they were both laughing and flushed with excitement, maybe flushed with something else too.

Brian turned around. "Ready to go back?"

"Let's run away," Justin giggled.

Brian snorted. "Anywhere in particular?"

"You ask that question a lot," Justin giggled again. "Home, James."

Brian rolled them back to the front door of the loft. "This is where you get off," he said with a laugh.

"Thanks for the ride. That was fun," Justin said still sitting on Brian's lap, his arms around his neck. "Love your new Ferrari." Suddenly Justin leaned in and they were kissing, a long, slow, sweet kiss that took their breath away.

When they both needed air they finally broke apart. Justin stood up quickly and Brian could swear the blond was blushing. In fact maybe he was too. He certainly had an uncomfortable bulge in his pants, and it looked like Justin did as well.

"Good night," Justin called as he ran up the steps.

Brian wished he could go after him but he had to go around the back to get in. Slowly he made that journey. When he opened the loft door he had a huge grin on his face. This had been the best night he'd had in a dog's age and he hadn't even got laid.


	6. Close to Home

Brian awoke to the sound of his alarm clock. He stretched and smiled. He had had a great night's sleep thanks to his new wheelchair and a certain blond from downstairs. He smiled. He had loved the sense of speed and freedom from his new chair. He was going to do that again. 

And then there was Justin. That ride with him on his lap had been so much fun. He couldn't remember the last time he had had fun. Justin had been hesitant at first, but that was because he didn't want to hurt Brian's legs. He hadn't been afraid of Brian or of the chair. In fact he had seemed to like it.

And that kiss. Brian could almost feel the sweet lips on his own. He touched his bottom lip with the tips of his fingers. A little shiver shot up his spine. Christ, he was acting like some fucking schoolgirl!

He needed to get some work done. Cynthia would be over later in the day with the mock-ups of the ads for the chewable vitamins. He decided to start the day with his exercises.

About ten-thirty there was a knock on the loft door. He groaned inwardly. Who could it be now? Suddenly his heart leapt in his throat. Maybe it was Justin. He whipped over to the door and pulled it back. There stood his blond smiling that radiant smile and looking good enough to eat. It took every ounce of willpower Brian possessed to stifle the growl that wanted to escape his throat. He wanted Justin Taylor with every fiber of his being.

"Hey," he said with what was probably a stupid grin plastered on his mug.

"Hey," Justin smiled back at him. "I loved my ride last night. I wondered if you would like to have coffee and … start over."

"I don't go out much," Brian said lamely. He thought Justin was asking him to go to Starbucks down the street.

"We don't have to go out of the building," Justin said. "I have coffee and some more of those muffins from yesterday at my place. I think they're still edible."

"Yum, day old muffins! My favorite!"

"Asshole."

Brian was slightly taken aback at Justin's choice of words, and so was Justin if the look on his face meant anything.

"Don't say it," Brian ordered as Justin opened his mouth.

"Say what?"

"Sorry."

"How do you know that's what I was going to say?"

"Asshole is not usually a word you use to describe someone's behavior on the second encounter," Brian explained with a smirk.

"Third encounter," Justin corrected.

"Oh, yeah," Brian smiled. "The look on your face was priceless when 'asshole' came out, not that I didn't deserve it."

"My mother would have been horrified at me."

"Mine would take it as another indicator that I'm going to burn in Hell," Brian said shaking his head. He could tell Justin was going to ask about his mother. "Don't ask," he said quickly. "It would take way too long and you'd be none the wiser at the end of it."

"So…" Justin said seeing that Brian wanted to change the subject. "Do you want day old muffins or will you venture to Starbucks with me … or do you want me to get lost?" Justin asked seeing Brian hesitate.

"Not every place is wheelchair accessible," Brian admitted. He wondered if Justin could tell how much it hurt him to have to admit that limitation.

"Well they damn well should be," Justin said vehemently. "It's not your fault if they're not. If you're game, let's go to Starbucks. It's a beautiful day. And if the fucking Starbucks down the street won't do, we'll keep going till we find one that is. Oh, and if it's halfway across the city, you can give me a ride back." Justin's face lit up with that wonderful smile.

"You're on," Brian said with the next thing to a giggle. He had no idea why he agreed to this, but it sounded like an adventure and he had so enjoyed his adventure last night. Justin had been part of that too. Maybe there was another kiss waiting at the end of it.

They made their way out the back of the building and down the street. Brian glanced around nervously. Suddenly he wasn't so sure this was a good idea. He felt himself recoil as each pedestrian passed near him. People seemed to be staring at him and the chair. His breaths began coming in gulps and his pulse pounded in his head. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he could feel it under his arms and down his back. Brian realized he was having a panic attack. It had been so long since he had actually been out on a sidewalk in daylight in a crowd. When they had gone to the restaurant he had people all around him. Now he was on his own, or almost.

"Are you all right?" Justin said stopping and looking at him with concern in his eyes.

"Not really," Brian gulped.

"We don't have to do this. Do you want to go back?"

Brian nodded. "I think that's best."

He turned his wheelchair and made for the loft as fast as he could go, arms pumping frantically. People brushed past him and he heard someone call him an asshole. Others looked warily at him like he was some kind of freak. To them he was. 

"Brian," he heard Justin call.

Brian knew he was leaving Justin behind but he had to get back to the loft, to safety. He heard Justin call his name again, but he kept going. When he reached the laneway he was panting and sweating profusely. He whipped open the back door and saw the elevator was on the ground floor thankfully. He raised the gate and hit the button for his floor. He took some deep breaths. He could feel his hands shaking as he raised the gate and saw the door to his loft. Quickly he opened it and entered. He slammed it behind him. He sat gulping for air just inside the door.

Seconds later someone pounded on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at the door but did nothing.

The pounding continued. "Brian, Brian! Are you in there? Brian, please, talk to me. Tell me if you're all right." Then the knocking resumed.

Brian knew Justin was out there. He sounded worried. Brian knew he couldn't answer or open the door. He had made a complete fool of himself. He should have known better than to try to go out like that. He had spent almost two years cutting himself off from the world. He was stupid to think he could just go back. A pair of blue eyes had tempted him to try. A delicious ass had lured him out of his safe haven. The hope of another sweet kiss had conned him into believing he could have a normal life. He should have known better. He wasn't normal and he could never go back. He needed to stay where it was safe. He couldn't have friends or a lover or fucking coffee for that matter. He wouldn't allow himself to think so again. He wouldn't be tricked by kind words from a sweet mouth. He would stay close to home where it was safe and predictable and boring as hell.

He wheeled himself up to the shower. It would wash away the sweat, if only it could wash away the fear and humiliation too. He could still hear the knocking on his door. The shower would drown that out in a minute.

\-----

Hours later Brian sat staring at his computer screen. He had tried to work. He had tried to exercise. He had tried to forget. But the image of a scared, cowardly cripple in a wheelchair running away from the only thing that had made him happy in such a long time was firmly emblazoned on his brain. He couldn't get rid of it no matter what he did.

He could see the confusion on Justin's face. It would now be replaced with loathing he had no doubt. Who in their right mind would want anything to do with a cripple, a scared little faggot cripple at that? 

Brian turned off the computer losing whatever he had been trying to work on. He didn't care. He wheeled himself up to the bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet pulling out three bottles. He went into the bedroom and grabbed the bottle of painkillers he kept on the nightstand. That ought to be enough. He opened each bottle lining them up carefully beside the bed.

He wheeled down to the fridge grabbing a bottle of water. He heard the buzzer go off. He halted for a moment waiting for it to stop. It was probably Justin trying another tack to get in. He could never face him again. This was for the best. The buzzer went off again. The guy didn't give up easily.

Brian ignored it and continued up to the bedroom. The phone rang. He waited for it to stop or be picked up by the machine. It was Cynthia. Shit, he had forgotten that she was coming over.

"Brian, Brian, I know you're there. What's going on? Why aren't you answering?" her worried voice demanded. "Pick up this phone right now!" she ordered.

He waited. She kept saying she knew he was there, calling for him to answer, begging him to reply. Finally the line went dead and there was silence in the loft.

Brian hauled himself onto the bed. He picked up the first bottle of pills and downed them followed by some of the water. He did the same thing with the second bottle. He wondered if that would be enough, but he didn't want to take any chances. He swallowed the third bottle finding it more difficult to get them down and kind of tricky to keep them down. He could already feel something weird happening. His stomach was rebelling, but he refused to throw them up.

He looked at the last bottle knowing there was no way he could swallow them without upchucking. What he had taken would have to be enough. He slid down in the bed closing his eyes and willing it to be over quickly.

Almost immediately he heard the loft door opening. A voice called, "Brian, Brian!" He ignored it staying quiet, hoping Cynthia would go away. 

The next thing he knew someone was slapping his face. He blinked and tried to turn away. Cynthia shook him.

"What the fuck! Leave me alone," he ordered.

"Brian, what have you done?" Cynthia demanded.

"Did you take all these?" Justin asked seeing the three empty pill bottles.

"Fuck off!" Brian ordered turning away. He groaned. Justin was there. He would see what a fucking pathetic SOB he was. He closed his eyes willing them both to disappear.

"Brian, did you take those pills? How long ago? If you did, you have to throw them up," Cynthia said. "Justin, get some water and mix it with salt."

Justin raced to the kitchen. He returned quickly with a glass of cloudy looking water.

"Drink this!" Cynthia ordered holding it to Brian's lips.

"No," Brian replied pushing her arm away. "Get out, both of you."

"Call 911, Justin. He'll have to go to the hospital and have his stomach pumped."

"No," Brian rebelled, "no hospitals."

"Then drink this or I'll call 911. You're not fucking dying on me," Cynthia stated.

"Please," Brian begged, "just leave me the fuck alone."

"Give me the phone, Justin. I'm calling 911 now!"

"No," Brian reacted, "give me the fucking glass."

He took a large drink of the horrible liquid and began throwing up immediately. Cynthia held the wastebasket for him. When he seemed finished she made him take another drink of the salt water. He threw up a bit more. Justin offered him a fresh bottle of water when he was finally finished.

Brian slumped back on the bed exhausted. He was even more humiliated than he had been before this started. "Are you both satisfied now?" he snarled. "Get out."

"So you can do this all over again?" Cynthia asked. "I don't think so. Justin, get him another bottle of water. We need to flush out any residue still in his system."

"How do you know so much about overdoses, Nurse Kratchet?" Brian demanded.

Justin snorted and went to get more water. 

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "It's a long story."

"How did you hook up with him?" Brian asked nodding towards Justin's disappearing backside.

"I was buzzing the apartment and calling you on my cell phone when Justin came down to get his mail. I pounded on the door and he let me in. I told him you were expecting me, but you wouldn't answer. I was freaking out. He said you'd had a bad experience this morning and that scared me even more. He said he'd come up with me. Luckily you didn't lock the door. You scared the shit out of both of us."

"Why didn't you mind your own fucking business?"

"You are my business, you big lug. Now drink this," she said passing him the bottle of water Justin had just brought back."

Brian downed a good portion of it. "Now will you leave?"

"No."

"Cynthia…" Brian didn't know how to finish that statement. Cynthia, go home. Cynthia, stay out of it. Cynthia, let me do what I have to do. Cynthia, thank you for saving my life, fucked up as it is. Cynthia, I don't know what the fuck to do.

"Brian, you need help. We can't leave you like this."

"You afraid I might be successful next time?" he asked with a grimace.

"Yes," she said softly. He could see the fear in her eyes.

"If you leave, I won't…" He couldn't say it.

"I could stay here," Justin volunteered. "I just live downstairs."

Brian groaned. That was the last thing he needed.

"I think we should call one of your doctors," Cynthia replied.

"I've had enough fucking doctors to last a lifetime … however long that may be," Brian said with irony.

"See, you need help."

"No, I fucking do not. No doctors!" Brian yelled.

"Then Justin stays," Cynthia stated.

Brian knew when he was beaten. He didn't doubt for a second that she would call his doctor or the paramedics or the psych ward. Cynthia was like a bulldog. That was one of the things he liked and respected about her. It made her good at her job. It also pissed him off at the moment.

"All right," he gave in. "Justin can stay."

"Good," Cynthia said. "I brought some mockups for you to look at." She hoped he might take an interest in work. "Oh shit, I left them in the lobby," she said realizing she had dropped them there when she started talking to Justin. "Justin, could you go down and get them. They're leaning against the wall by the front door. I hope they're still there."

"Sure," Justin agreed and went off to do the errand.

"Pretty clever how you got him out of the way," Brian smirked.

"I don't know what triggered this, Brian, but Justin said something happened this morning that involved the two of you. Sort it out while you have the chance. And don't you fucking ever do anything like this again!"

"Yes, mother," he said in mock contrition.

"I ought to smack you upside the head," she observed.

"Please don't."

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked, her tone softening. He nodded almost imperceptively. "Be nice to Justin … and talk out whatever happened."

Brian grimaced, but Cynthia ignored him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. He tried to glare at her but she could see something else in his eyes. She squeezed his hand and felt a responding pressure.

"I'll be here tomorrow morning. I want your input on the mockups. Understand?"

He knew she meant a lot more than the mockups. He nodded. She turned abruptly hiding the tear that threatened to run down her cheek. 

Justin appeared with the mock-ups. "Walk me out, Justin," she commanded.

Justin obediently followed her out to the elevator. He gave one backward glance to Brian. The man seemed to be taking in the empty nightstand. Justin had removed the pill bottles while Cynthia talked to Brian.

Brian watched them disappear from view. He ran his hands through his hair. What the fuck was he going to do? If he had a razor he'd slit his wrists. With his luck though, Justin would come back just in time to rescue him. Justin … that was how this whole fucked up thing had begun. He was sure Justin was out there right now getting his instructions from Cynthia. Christ, that woman could be a tigress. When she first buzzed the loft, he should have invited her up, taken the mockups, kicked her out and then taken the pills. What was it they said – hindsight is twenty-twenty? How was he going to get through a whole night with Justin in his apartment? How was he going to face Cynthia tomorrow morning? How was he supposed to face the rest of his pathetic life?

He rolled over onto his stomach and pulled the sheet up around his head. Maybe the blond would get the message that he didn't want anything to do with him.

A few minutes later Justin returned with another bottle of water. He placed the cold bottom of the bottle on Brian's neck huddled under the sheet. Brian jumped at the cold.

"Drink this," Justin said.

Brian rolled over and drank some of the water. Blue eyes studied him. He wanted to scream at the blond to go away, but he knew he wouldn't. Silence was the best approach.

"Want some dinner? I could make something."

Silence.

"Do you want to look at the mockups? I'll bring them up."

Silence.

"Can I get you anything?"

Silence.

"Would you like to come sit in the living room?"

Silence.

It went on and on with Justin asking him anything and everything he could think of to make conversation. Brian refused to respond. He drank his water and lay staring at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night for both of them.


	7. Close to Home

Brian awoke with a start. He had a terrible taste in his mouth. He reached for the bottle of water that Justin had placed there for him before the blond went to sleep on the couch. He had finally given up trying to get Brian to talk to him.

The bottle of water disappeared down his throat. It helped the taste in his mouth, but now he had to pee. He sat up. His head swam in a most disconcerting manner. He wondered if this was leftover prescription pills in his system. Maybe it was his punishment for making such a cock-up of trying to kill himself. He groaned.

He pulled his legs over the side of the bed so he was sitting up. His wheelchair was against the closet. Fuck! Cynthia must have pushed it out of the way when she was sitting on the side of his bed. He tried to figure out how he could pull it to him. He looked around trying to find something long enough to grab it. There was nothing. He debated calling out to Justin, but he didn't want to wake him. He also didn't want to appear anymore helpless than he already had. Maybe if he slid off the bed he could crawl over and haul himself into the chair. It was worth a try.

He pushed himself off the bed and sat down hard on the floor. He let out an audible groan as he did so. The next thing he knew Justin was standing over him wearing only his underwear.

"What happened?" Justin asked staring down at him. At least he didn't try to haul Brian up which was what he would have expected.

"Give me my fucking chair," Brian commanded, again embarrassed by being so helpless and by his body's reaction to the package contained in Justin's briefs.

Justin brought it over and set the brake. Brian struggled to get into it. It wasn't easy to get from the floor up into the wheelchair, much easier from the bed using the grab bar.

"Can I help?" Justin asked as Brian struggled.

"Hold it still."

Justin stood behind the chair bracing it against his hip. Brian then could use the seat to raise himself. Finally he was seated in it breathing hard and very annoyed.

"I'm sorry that I didn't move it back by the bed. I'll remember next time."

"Who says there'll be a next time? I have to piss if you don't mind," Brian said wheeling past the blond and secretly hoping he ran over his toes. He disappeared into the bathroom. He pulled the urinal out and started to pee. He turned his head sensing that Justin was watching him. "Want to hold it for me?" he asked sarcastically.

"Um … no, but I wondered how you did that," Justin admitted.

"I point and piss like any other man."

Justin snorted. "I meant how you got it in the toilet, but you don't."

"So now you know all my secrets."

"Not by half."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I don't know you very well."

"You just fucking met me. Why are you here anyway?" Brian asked with a scowl.

"Are you always so rude?"

"It's one of my most endearing traits," Brian said as he flushed.

Justin snorted. Brian cocked an eyebrow. It was a standoff.

"Ready to go back to bed?" Justin asked.

"I'm not tired," Brian said belligerently.

"So … do you want to talk?" Brian glared at him. "How about playing cards?" Brian glared some more. "Strip poker?" Justin asked with a smirk. Brian hoped the glimmer of interest didn't show in his eyes.

"Why don't you go back to your own fucking apartment?" Brian asked trying to drive the handsome young man away.

"I told Cynthia I'd stay."

"When did you and Cynthia get to be best buds?"

"I guess you could say we have a vested interest in the same thing."

Brian studied the young man. He wasn't sure what he thought that statement meant. He knew what he hoped it meant. Brian caught himself. He couldn't hope. That's what had got him into this mess in the first place. He would not hope.

"Go back to sleep." Brian said.

"Sure," Justin agreed moving out of the bathroom. "Your couch is really comfortable," Justin said with an edge of sarcasm.

"Don't call it a couch. It's a sofa, a very expensive sofa. And if you don't like it you can always go home."

"No such luck, big guy," Justin said laying down on the sofa and pulling a sheet over himself.

Brian went to his computer switching it on. While it booted up he stared across at the sofa. Being at the computer meant that he only had to look up to see the delicious shape of the blond under the thin sheet. He stifled a groan.

He logged onto his favorite chat site. Maybe BB would be there. He could use someone anonymous to talk to. He wasn't about to "share" with Justin. "Fuck!" he muttered. BB wasn't on tonight. This was the first time he hadn't been there when he'd wanted him. And this time he almost needed him.

"Is something wrong?" Justin asked turning over.

"No."

"I thought you said something."

"I said 'fuck'."

Justin's eyes lasered in on Brian's. "Is that an invitation?"

Brian felt his cock jump at the words. Why did Justin do these things? He couldn't be serious. "Go to sleep," he ordered choosing to ignore Justin's words.

"I'm wide awake now."

"So you'll be bugging me incessantly?"

"I can keep quiet if that's what you want," Justin said knowing there was no point in arguing.

"Why are you involved in this? You should be at home in your own bed … with someone else."

Justin frowned. "Thanks for the advice, but there's no one else."

"How come?"

"There … just isn't."

"You're reasonably attractive," Brian smirked.

"Thanks, I think."

"So go get laid."

"I don't want to," Justin said not really knowing how to reply.

"Everybody wants to."

"Only with the right person."

"Picky, are you?"

"Very."

Why did this sound vaguely familiar? Brian couldn't quite answer that thought, but it was slightly unsettling. "How are you going to find Mr. Right when you're stuck here with me?"

Justin looked like he was about to say something but then changed his mind. "Where's your Mr. Right?" Justin asked finally turning the tables on Brian.

Brian sneered. "Just thousands of Mr. Right's have been beating down my door since … the accident," he said, his voice full of sarcasm and anger.

"And you've been beating them off with a stick?" Justin asked with a little grin.

"Mostly just beating off," Brian said ruefully.

Justin laughed. "You have a wicked sense of humor."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, wicked."

"Why did you do that?" Justin asked softly.

Brian knew immediately that he was asking about the pills. He didn't know how much he was prepared to reveal. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I … I feel kind of responsible. You came out with me and that freaked you. I didn't know. I wouldn't have asked you if I had."

"It's not your fault. I should have known better."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because you asked me," Brian whispered, something he could only say in the wee small hours of the morning with his face mostly in shadow.

"I'd still like to have coffee with you," Justin whispered in return.

"After what happened?"

"We don't have to go out. I'll buy fresh muffins," Justin promised sincerely.

Brian snorted. "Why do you want to be near me? I'm disgusting. I'm a cripple. I'm a coward." The words seemed to be ripped from Brian's chest. Justin could feel the pain. 

"You're none of those things," Justin said vehemently. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?" Brian said nothing, just shook his head. "I see a strong, beautiful man who has overcome unbelievable hardships. I see someone that I want to get to know. I see someone I'm attracted to."

The phone chose that precise moment to ring. Brian scarcely heard it. His head was reeling from Justin's words. He hoped he had heard correctly, but it couldn't be.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Justin asked.

Brian couldn't trust his voice. He shook his head as the machine kicked in.

"Brian! Brian! Pick up the fucking phone!" a woman's voice demanded. Brian's head was still swimming. He heard the words but they didn't really register. "I know you're fucking there. Answer me." Still Brian did nothing. "Lindsay went into labor a while ago. Things are moving fast. She wants you here, asshole." The line went dead.

Brian sat immobile his eyes on his hands which were clasped in front of him on the desk.

"Who was that, Brian? Who's having a baby?" Justin asked.

"I am."

"What?" Justin's eyes were very large.

"My child is in the process of being born … or rather Lindsay's baby is being born. It's not really mine."

"I don't understand," Justin said. He was sure Brian was gay, but he was having a baby?

"Lindsay's a friend. She needed a sperm donor."

"You."

Brian nodded. "That would be me."

"Then you need to go. You should be there."

Brian shook his head. "It's her baby, not mine."

"But she wants you there. The baby will be your son or daughter."

Brian stared at him. "I told her I didn't want anything to do with it."

"But…" Justin began. He bit off the rest of his remark. He had learned one thing very quickly. There was less than no point in arguing with Brian.

"Besides, who wants to see lesbian snatch," Brian tried to joke. Justin merely stared at him not responding. "You think I should go?"

"Of course, but what do I know?" Justin glared at him.

"I'm not sure I should drive," Brian said lamely. Some part of him wanted to be there.

"I could drive you," Justin volunteered brightening up.

"You have a car?"

"No, but don't you?"

"Yes, but you won't be able to drive it."

"Why?" Justin frowned.

"It has hand controls."

"Oh! I could go with you," Justin said hopefully.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Brian said backing away from the possibility of going and all that implied.

"Then don't," Justin said giving up or appearing to.

Brian was quiet for a bit, perhaps waiting for Justin to offer more encouragement. None was forthcoming.

"It's late," Brian finally said. Justin thought he was going to go back to bed. He sighed and lay down on the couch. "There won't be too many people around. Let's go."

Justin was on his feet immediately. He grabbed his clothes and started putting them on. What could be better for Brian's frame of mind than the birth of his child? Brian had disappeared up to the bedroom to get ready. In a few minutes they were down at the van. Justin was fascinated by all the unusual features in the vehicle and asked continuous questions all the way to the hospital. They parked the van and headed for the front door.  
As they approached the main door of the hospital Brian stopped. Justin turned to look at him. He was afraid Brian had changed his mind and was going to run away again.

"I hate hospitals," Brian said. "I swore I'd never set foot in one again unless I was dead."

"But this is for a happy reason."

"Yeah."

Brian finally sucked it up and they entered the hospital. They checked at the front desk and were directed to delivery. The nurse at delivery told them Ms. Peterson had already had her baby and gave them the room number. They arrived at the room to find it filled with lesbians.

Lindsay looked up at Brian's entrance and said, "You came. Say hello to your son." She looked down at the little bundle she held in her arms. "Want to hold him?"

Brian wheeled over by the bed and took the baby in his arms. Justin thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than Brian and his son. Someone snapped a picture. He'd have to get a copy of it. He wanted to sketch this moment.

"Careful. Don't drop him," the woman on the bed with Lindsay said.

"That's just what I was going to do," Brian replied giving her a withering look.

He held the little bundle tenderly in front of him. He couldn't believe how tiny his son was. A little hand came out and touched Brian's nose. He thought he would cry at the simple gesture. It was like his son knew him and he was reaching out to his father. Brian wanted to crush his son to his breast, but he held him away afraid that he would break down if he did anything more. His heart was so full.

"Mel wants to call him Abraham after her grandfather, but I like Gus. What do you think, Brian?" Lindsay asked.

"I don't know. What do you think, Justin?"

"You'd never survive on the playground with a name like Abraham, but I guess Gus would be all right," Justin replied.

"And who the hell are you?" Melanie asked.

"He's been sleeping at my place," Brian stated.

"Sleeping?" Lindsay and Melanie said simultaneously. Justin blushed.

"Bet you don't get much actual sleep," Melanie retorted.

"Not tonight anyway," Justin said letting them take that any way they wanted to. Brian smiled his approval.

"Could I have a few minutes alone with Lindsay?" Brian asked.

The room started to clear. Justin glanced at Brian who nodded for him to go too. Even Melanie stood up. 

"Can I get you anything, sweetie?" she asked Lindsay.

"Something fizzy," Lindsay requested.

Melanie left and they were alone with their son.

"He's beautiful, Lindz."

"Can you believe we're parents?"

"Scary, huh?"

"Maybe we can send him back," Lindsay said only half joking.

"I think I'll keep him," Brian said still holding his son and studying the tiny face.

"He's a keeper all right."

"You know if you ever need anything…"

"I know, but we'll be fine." Brian handed Gus to his mother. "I want you to know your son, Brian. I'm glad you came tonight."

"Yeah," Brian said. He reached up and touched Gus' little chin. "Night, Sonny Boy. Sweet dreams for your first night on earth."

He wheeled himself out the door looking for Justin. Lindsay watched with a little smile. She was glad he had given in and come to see his son.


	8. Close to Home

Justin sat silently in the passenger seat as Brian drove them back to the loft. He wasn't sure what to say and he didn't want to piss Brian off. He had made a decision when he saw Brian and Gus together. He thought maybe tonight was the time to act on it.

"I … I'm glad you talked me into going tonight," Brian said rather reluctantly. He wanted Justin to know that he appreciated what the young man had done.

"You talked yourself into it," Justin said with a little sideways grin.

"Not without some strategic prodding from you."

"Maybe," Justin agreed with a bigger grin. "Gus is a cute little guy."

"Yeah. Who would have thought, me a parent?"

"I bet you make a great father."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Brian said with a shake of his head.

"Why not?"

"Long, family tradition."

"Your father wasn't a good father?"

"I'd say he ranks somewhere between Attila the Hun and Beelzebub."

"Jesus, how can anyone be that bad?"

"The Kinneys have it down to a fine art."

"Well I don't believe you'll be like that. I could tell as soon as I saw you holding Gus."

"Tell what?"

"That you loved him. You held him so gently and when he touched your nose…"

Brian felt his eyes well up at the memory of that moment. He cleared his throat trying to regain control. "What about your father?" Brian asked hoping to change the subject.

"Hmpff," Justin replied.

"What does that mean?"

"He's an asshole."

"Welcome to the club," Brian said with a rueful grin.

"I don't think he's as bad as yours though," Justin replied.

"So what did he do?"

"He was great until I came out to him."

"That will usually do it."

"He told me he expected me to go to Dartmouth and marry an appropriate girl and never mention my unseemly urges again."

"Hm, unseemly urges. I haven't heard that one before."

"What did your father call it?"

"My father doesn't know."

"Really?"

"Really! The old fuck never wanted me in his life, so he has no say in mine. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing."

"What about your mother?"

"Christ, she'd be worse. Have me burning in Hell two seconds after she found out."

"They sound … awful."

"They are awful," Brian said softly. He rarely thought about them anymore. He didn't want to now either. "What about your mother?"

"She's been great. She never gave up on me or turned away. She helped me however she could. Her father, my grandfather, put me through PIFA. My own father wouldn't give me a fucking cent."

"You're lucky to have her."

"I know."

They had arrived at the building on Tremont. Brian drove around the back and parked the van in his spot. They made their way into the building. It was almost dawn.

While they waited for the elevator Brian said, "Justin, you can go home. I … I won't do anything." They both understood what he was referring to. "Besides, somebody stole all my pills." Brian looked up at Justin with that crooked smile that could melt anyone's heart.

"I told Cynthia that I'd stay till she arrived."

"I know but that was in different circumstances … yesterday."

"I'm coming up with you," Justin stated making it clear there was to be no further discussion of the matter.

Brian sighed. He didn't need a babysitter. He wanted Justin to stay but not as his warden. They rode the elevator to the top. Brian unlocked the door and turned to face Justin.

"You should go home," Brian repeated.

"I don't want to." Blue eyes stared into hazel ones. Justin did his best to convey exactly what he meant. He didn't think Brian was getting it, or else he was simply refusing to get it. He leaned over and kissed Brian gently on the lips. Maybe that would clarify his message. "I want to stay … with you."

Brian felt that glimmer of hope again. Could he trust it this time? Did he dare? He pulled back the loft door and wheeled inside. He turned his chair to face Justin who stayed on the other side of the threshold waiting for the invitation he wanted.

"How do you even know I can get it up?" Brian asked pointedly, his innate sarcasm rising to the surface. He wanted Justin to understand the situation he was buying into.

"I'm an artist. I'm very observant. I've seen the tent in your pants. Besides, I'd have to be dead not to feel the wood under my butt when you gave me that chair ride the other night, or was that last night. Geez, so much has happened."

Brian snorted. "I'm pretty observant too." They both knew what he was talking about.

"So do I come in?" Justin asked.

"It's your call," Brian stated. Justin would have to decide for himself. Brian wouldn't stoop to asking.

"Oh no you don't," Justin said. "You have a role in this too. Don't pretend that I have to make all the decisions. Do you want me to come in?"

Brian knew that he was really asking if Brian wanted him. He was about to tell him to go home again when he heard a strangled, "Yes." He almost looked around to see who had said it, when he realized it had come as a growl wrenched from somewhere deep inside him.

Justin stepped across the threshold and into something he wanted and needed and that scared him, but it was something he had to do as surely as he had to take his next breath. He sat down on Brian's lap and wrapped his arms around the man's neck. He turned so he could look into Brian's eyes. He saw longing and need … and fear. He wanted to erase that fear, make it unnecessary and forgotten.

The kiss began slowly and softly. He felt Brian respond but still hold back. His tongue pressed against Brian's lips asking for admittance. He held his breath understanding on some deep level how hard this was for Brian, the level of trust that was required to go ahead with what they were going to do. He pressed his lips harder against Brian's and felt them yield to the pressure and to him. He was in. His tongue dueled with Brian's, tasting and exploring. The kiss went on and on as Brian's tongue battled back and demanded entrance to Justin's mouth. Finally they had to break apart or die from lack of oxygen. Death might have been preferable to separation.

"That was some fucking kiss!" Brian breathed.

"Yeah."

"More," Brian groaned and captured Justin's mouth again.

The next time they came up for air they were both hard and panting. Justin nuzzled against Brian's neck. 

"I want you in me," he whispered afraid to look at Brian in case he was turned down.

He felt a growl rumble up from Brian's chest. Arms folded tighter around him and his lips were crushed in another kiss. That was the reaction he had been looking for.

Suddenly he felt Brian shove him off his lap. He stood up abruptly. "What the fuck?" he stammered.

"Lock the fucking door," Brian ordered his eyes dark with lust.

Justin beamed a smile when he realized why Brian had pushed him away. "Yes, sir."

Brian went over to the desk while Justin locked the door. He pulled out a condom and tube of lube and set them on top of the desk.

"Where?" Justin asked. Brian shrugged. "How about right here?"

Justin walked towards Brian knowing that he held both their fates in his hands. He leaned down and kissed Brian. He felt Brian's hands move under his T-shirt and lift it up. He broke the kiss as the shirt came over his head. He felt Brian's hands surround his breasts and pull at each nipple. He groaned at the sensation. He reached for Brian's wifebeater and pulled it off. He immediately began working on the buttons of Brian's jeans. He could tell by the bulge that Brian was already hard. He was too, so hard it hurt, but in a positive life-affirming way. He shucked off Brian's shoes and socks in a flash. Brian planted his hands on the sides of his wheelchair seat. He lifted himself up raising his hips so his jeans and underwear could be pulled down by Justin. They disappeared quickly as Justin tossed them aside.

Brian's cock stood red and proud. Justin's hand instinctively went around it and he felt it jump in response. He smiled at Brian and leaned down to give him another kiss. Brian grabbed Justin's jeans, unzipped them and pushed them down to his knees. Justin quickly stepped out of them toeing off his shoes and socks with them. He stood naked in front of Brian.

Brian felt his heart pound. He ached to possess this beautiful man. He knew this wasn't going to be just another fuck. That's what the hustlers were for. His eyes surveyed the young man standing in all his glory. His breath caught in his throat as Justin stepped towards him. Justin spread his legs straddling the wheelchair and settled into Brian's lap. Their cocks collided with a delicious force. Brian would have to thank Trey for getting him this new chair without arms.

Justin wound his arms around Brian's neck and found the soft, inviting mouth once again. The kiss was deep and promised so much. They wanted each other physically but they both knew something more profound was happening. Justin bucked against Brian their cocks rubbing against each other. They moaned into the continuing kiss.

Brian clasped the slender body against him, crushing their dicks between them. His hands roamed along Justin's back as they kissed. Gradually his hands worked their way down to cup the soft, but firm, buttocks. Justin moaned into Brian's mouth. Brian's fingers passed over Justin's hole and he felt the blond jump in expectation. He reached behind him and grabbed the lube. He squirted some onto his hand as Justin watched, his blue eyes almost sapphire color with lust. Brian lubed around Justin's hole making sure he got plenty on his finger. He kissed Justin's lips as his finger began to probe. Justin gasped as the finger pierced the first ring of muscle.

"It's been a while," Justin gasped as Brian stretched and worked at loosening the pucker.

Gradually Justin began to move up and down fucking himself on the finger. Brian added another finger and Justin moaned throwing his head back and accepting the invasion. The look of pure ecstasy on the young man's face almost made Brian cum. It was time for more.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Justin rose up stepping back from the wheelchair and its occupant. Brian grabbed the condom and ripped it open with his teeth. He handed it to Justin who rolled it along Brian's cock. Brian squirted some lube on it and spread it over the surface with his palm. He gave his cock a couple of tugs before holding it upright in front of him.

"Ready?" he asked.

Justin nodded and straddled him once again. He lowered himself until he felt the cock head press against his pucker. He slowly lowered himself onto it, feeling it breach the muscle and enter him. He grimaced at the size but after a moment to adjust he sat down on Brian's lap taking all of Brian's length inside him. He stayed still staring into Brian's eyes and relishing the feeling of being filled and complete.

Brian groaned as Justin sat down. The young man was so tight. Brian's dick throbbed at the warmth and constriction and feeling of completeness. He looked into Justin's eyes and saw such trust and openness there.

"I have you right where I want you," Justin whispered, his mouth against Brian's ear.

Brian snorted. His hands on Justin's hips he lifted the young man up. Justin's toes touched the floor and he pushed up as well until he felt just the head of Brian's cock inside. He sat down taking it all in again. Brian groaned. Justin raised up repeating the previous movements. This time they both moaned as he sat down. Justin lifted again constricting his anal muscles around the throbbing cock. Brian moaned loudly and opened his eyes. Justin smiled at him. He began to increase the speed of his up and down movements. He needed more and so did Brian. 

Justin leaned in kissing Brian once again. He bounced in the man's lap tightening and loosening his grip on the steel rod up his ass. He was driving himself crazy with the friction and heat and contact. Brian was having trouble hanging on too if his moans were any indication.

The chair bounced across the floor as their coupling became more frantic.

"Ouch," Brian grimaced.

"What?" Justin asked afraid he'd hurt Brian somehow.

"I forgot to set the brake on the chair and it just rammed into the corner of the desk."

"Fix it!" Justin ordered beginning to move even more quickly up and down Brian's length.

Brian jammed on the brake as Justin wrapped his legs around Brian and the chair. His up and down movements were becoming frantic as he pushed them both closer to orgasm.

"Oh God, Brian! I'm close," he yelled.

"Me too," Brian gasped.

Justin continued to pump his hips over Brian. The chair skidded some more even with the brake on. Brian could hear items rattling around on the desk behind him as Justin's movements shook the furniture and them right to their souls. Justin chewed on Brian's lips between gasps for air. His arms clutched Brian's neck. His cock jabbed at Brian's stomach with each thrust. His heart pounded. His lungs screamed for more air.

"Now!" he yelled as he shot his load between them.

Brian felt Justin's hole contract around his cock. The heat and friction had driven him close to insanity. This drove him over the edge. He filled the condom as he moaned, "Justin, Justin, Justin."

Justin slumped down exhausted. He had done most of the work but it had been so worth it. His head rested against the side of Brian's neck as he tried to breathe. It had been a while for him, but he knew it had never been like this, never before and maybe never again. He smiled to himself in complete satisfaction.

Brian could swear that Justin was smiling. He could feel the muscles in the man's face curling up into a smile against his neck. He knew he was smiling too. He had never felt anything like this since the accident. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd ever felt this. His softening dick was still up the blond's ass. His arms still encircled the slim frame and he held Justin close, afraid to release him. He didn't want this to be over.

Justin shifted a bit. His leg was going to cramp if he didn't move. He heard Brian groan as Justin lifted up. Brian's dick slid out and they both felt the loss.

"Oh fuck, Justin," Brian whispered.

"I had to move," Justin apologized.

"That was…amazing."

"Fantastic."

"Fabulous."

"Extraordinary."

"My brain is too fried to think of any more adjectives. But that was … grrrrrrrrreat!" Brian said into Justin's ear.

Justin giggled. The sound and warm breath tickled. "You sound like Tony the Tiger." He stood up deciding he better move while he still could.

"How do you know Tony?" Brian asked cleaning himself up and getting rid of the condom.

"Love Frosted Flakes."

"I should have known. That must be where you get that bubble butt," Brian observed as Justin bent over to pick up some of the clothes that would be in the way of the wheelchair.

Justin turned towards him, a strange look passing over his face. He shook his head and turned to throw the rest of the clothes on the sofa. "It's daylight, but I'm beat," Justin said slowly.

"Neither of us got much sleep last night."

"I could use a shower," Justin said.

"Me too, and then a couple of hours shuteye."

"I … I should go home, take a shower and get some clean clothes," Justin said. He wondered if Brian wanted to get rid of him now that they had had sex.

"You don't have to," Brian said. That sounded hopeful.

"I think I better, but I could come back later," Justin said with a smile. Suddenly his face clouded over. "Shit! I have a meeting at ten and then a shitload of stuff to get organized later in the day. I better go." He started pulling on his jeans.

"If you have to," Brian said with a touch of sadness.

"I have to. I'm not sure when I'll get back to the apartment. It's going to be hectic the next couple of days."

"I see," Brian said hurt by the sudden change in Justin and his need to go home. Before they got to the loft he couldn't get rid of the blond. Now it seemed he couldn't wait to get out of there and didn't know when he'd be back. Brian wondered if their fuck hadn't been quite as good as Justin had said.

Justin gathered the rest of his clothes. He moved to the loft door. "Sorry I have to run. I'll call you." The door slid shut behind him.

Brian wondered when Justin would call – tonight, tomorrow, next week, never. Maybe he had just made another colossal mistake.


	9. Close to Home

Brian stared at the mock-ups. He couldn't even remember what the fuck the product was. Who cared? His mind refused to focus on anything except Justin. He wondered how he could have been so stupid all over again.

Justin had left the loft yesterday morning in a big hurry to get out of there. Brian had replayed the scene over and over again. Justin had refused to go home when they came back from the hospital, had made Brian admit that he wanted him to come in, that he wanted him, period. Brian had said it. Something he had vowed never to do. He knew he should never need anyone. He had only himself to rely on.

But he had said it. "Yes". A tiny three letter word that meant so much. Yes, come in. Yes, I want you. Yes, I'm a sorry, pathetic idiot that you can screw now and laugh at later. Brian took a deep breath.

Sure, they had had tumultuous mind-blowing sex. Sure, they had kissed until neither could think straight. Sure, he had taken Justin to witness the birth of his son. And as soon as all that was over Justin couldn't wait to get out of there. He had grabbed his clothes and said how busy he was going to be. And he had left. 

Justin had not contacted him since. Brian had waited for the phone to ring or a knock on the loft door. Nothing. Almost two days had passed and he had heard nothing from the beautiful, treacherous blond. He couldn't believe he had so misread Justin's motives and feelings. He had seemed so caring and kind and sexy and genuine. He must be one hell of an actor.

Brian refocused his eyes on the mock-ups. They looked fine. Anything looked fine if he didn't look too closely. If he did, it all crumbled, turned to shit like his life. 

He wondered what he could do now. He'd tried suicide, not for the first time, and that hadn't gone so well. Some part of him harbored the suspicion that he didn't really want to die. Why else would he have taken those pills knowing Cynthia was on the other side of the door? The only way he was going to die under those circumstances was when she killed him for being such a selfish bastard.

He could start calling hustlers again. They could help him push away the memories of Justin and him. Or could they? Somehow he knew they would be little more than pale imitations of the real thing. Justin had been the real thing. He had been so sure. Fuck, he was stupid.

He could go back to his old life, such as it was. Wasn't that what he'd been trying to do for the last two days? And how successful he had been at that! Not! That's why he was staring at these damn mock-ups for the three hundredth time, and he had yet to really see them.

He could call Justin and ask him what happened. But he didn't really want to hear the words he dreaded, the words he feared Justin would say. That would make it all too real. It would destroy him. He could call Justin and beg him to come back. Not bloody likely! He didn't have a whole lot of pride left in his life, but he knew he couldn't beg. People had wiped his ass for him and bathed him and fed him after the accident, but he had never begged, except maybe for them to finish him off. And he wasn't going to start begging now.

He was sitting at his desk. It was almost two in the morning. Cynthia would come for the mock-ups in a few hours, before she went to the office for work. He'd tell her they were fine and go on like everything was hunky dory. It was as good as it was likely to get.

He thought he should try to get some sleep. But he wasn't tired. If he lay down he knew he would replay the scene with Justin over and over in his head. He'd have to jerk off too because it was so powerful, so sexy, so real. But it had to be a deceit, a farce. He wondered how something could seem so real and be so false.

He dropped the mockups down beside the desk and logged onto his favorite chat site. He wondered if BB might be there. He had sort of pissed the guy off, but at least BB hadn't betrayed him like the other blond. Sure enough he was there.

BB: What do you want?

PP: And welcome to you too.

BB: Don't try to sweet talk me. I'm mad at you.

PP: You can't still be mad.

BB: I don't like being called a whiner.

PP: I didn't really mean it.

BB: Well, at least that's something.

PP: Can we talk about something else?

BB: Sure. I met someone.

PP: That's too bad.

BB: Why? You want me for yourself?

PP: Of course.

BB: God, you have a huge ego.

PP: You told me that before. So what's this guy like?

BB: He's dark and handsome and a great lover.

PP: You could be describing me. (Brian was enjoying laying it on thick.)

BB: Jesus, don't you ever quit.

PP: They say I have the stamina of a bull.

BB: More information than I wanted. (Blushing profusely)

PP: Oh? You're so easy.

BB: Anyway, this guy is … special. I really like him.

PP: I'm happy for you.

BB: Do I detect sarcasm in that comment?

PP: How perceptive!

BB: Why can't you be happy for me?

PP: Because it doesn't end up happy. I don't believe in happy ever after. It's a crock of shit.

BB: Why? Did you get burned?

PP: Yeah, and just a couple of days ago. It sucks. Love sucks. There's no such thing as love.

BB: So you met someone too?

PP: You could say that. And it was a total mistake.

BB: How so?

PP: We fucked and then he couldn't wait to get out of here.

BB: That wasn't very nice.

PP: Tell me about it.

BB: What happened?

PP: I was a fucking idiot. I know there's no such thing as love. I should have been expecting this outcome.

BB: But he hurt you?

Brian knew he should let this go, move on to a new topic. He never talked about his feelings, not with anyone, even before the accident. But Justin had hurt him. For the first time since the accident, and almost the first time ever, he had let his guard down. He had wanted Justin to love him, to see him as worthy, to acknowledge him as a man not a cripple. He even might have been able to love Justin back. He never thought he would think that, let alone act on it. And it had merely shown him that all his old beliefs were right.

BB: Hey?

BB: Are you still there?

BB: You can tell me. You can tell me anything.

PP: How did this conversation get to be about me?

BB: I think you needed to vent.

PP: Anyway, tell me more about your new man.

BB: Changing the subject?

PP: Trying to.

BB: Okay, I'll let you. My man – He's … unbelievable. He's gentle and yet forceful. He's strong and yet vulnerable. He's got a great cock.

PP: Snort! I'm the one with the perfect pecker.

BB: Oh, I forgot.

PP: Well, watch it.

BB: (Giggling) I'll make sure I remember from now on.

PP: Good. Why aren't you and your new beau fucking right now? Why are you talking to me?

BB: I've been really busy. I'm making a special present for him and I have that show of my artwork that I'm getting ready for.

PP: Good luck with the show.

BB: Thanks, it's been very hectic.

PP: You're lucky. I hope it works out with this guy and you don't get shit on like I did.

BB: God, me too! I mean … I'm sorry it happened to you but I don't think the same thing will happen to me.

PP: Maybe you'll be the exception and love will work for you.

BB: I appreciate your good wishes. I better go. I shouldn't have been on here in the first place.

PP: Glad you were.

BB: Me too. Good night.

Brian logged off. He was glad BB had been there for him. Too bad Justin wasn't though. 

He picked up the fucking mock-ups and stared at them. Strangely they looked different to him now. He could see what was wrong with them, what they needed. He grabbed a marker and scribbled over the pictures making notes for Cynthia so they could be fixed. 

When he was done, he smiled to himself. He was good at his job. Nobody could take that away from him.

\-----

When Cynthia arrived around eight o'clock the next morning, Brian was already up and had completed his exercises. He was freshly dressed having just showered.

"Morning, Boss," she said as he opened the loft door for her.

"The mock-ups are beside the desk. They need some serious revision."

"I brought you a latte and a muffin," she said handing him a bag. She noticed the grimace but thought better of pursuing it.

Brian began sipping his latte but never gave the muffin a second look. She wasn't too surprised, because Brian rarely ate things like muffins. She had hoped he might like a treat for a change. She had been wrong.

She glanced at the mock-ups noting the changes. She could see that they would make a world of difference. "These changes are just what the ads needed."

"Thanks," Brian said.

"So, have you seen Justin since the other morning? I was surprised he wasn't here when I arrived. I wanted to thank him."

Brian grimaced at the memory. "I don't need him anymore. As you can see, I'm better than fine."

"I wasn't implying otherwise. I just thought you two might hit it off. He seemed like a nice, young man."

"The operative word being 'seemed'."

"What does that mean?"

"Shouldn't you be getting to the office?"

"I guess," she replied studying him. She knew she had been summarily dismissed. He wanted her gone.

Not long after Cynthia left the phone rang. Brian wondered if she had forgotten something as he picked up the receiver.

"Yeah?"

"Hey man, it's Trey. I had a few minutes before my first appointment. Just thought I'd call and see how you liked the new chair."

"I should tell you to shove it up your ass for all the trouble it's caused me, but I like it too much."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm bringing Chinese after work and you can tell me all about it," Trey said.

"Trey…" Brian began wanting to refuse.

"You know you can't turn me down. Have some nice cold beer ready when I get there."

"Okay," Brian gave in. He knew Trey would get the story out of him eventually anyway.

Trey arrived about 6:30 with a bag of Chinese food. He made himself to home taking out plates and dishing up food. Brian grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and they sat at the coffee table keeping it casual.

After a few bites Trey looked at Brian. "So?"

Brian sighed. "Remember the blond I told you about?"

"The guy from downstairs?" 

"Yeah, Justin Taylor. I took my new chair for a spin and met him in the street."

"You were out in the street wheeling around?" Trey asked in surprise. He knew the type of hermit-like life Brian had chosen to live. He never went out like that.

"Yeah, that chair has some bitchin' speed!"

Trey almost spit out his mouthful of beer. "Christ, man, that chair must have triggered some recessive gene in you. What the fuck got into you?"

"I haven't a clue. But I went out in the street and raced from one corner to another. I was having the time of my life."

"I fucking bet you were! I wish I could have seen it."

"Next time I'll make a video," Brian laughed.

"Is there going to be a next time?"

The smile disappeared from Brian's face. He shook his head slowly.

"What happened?" Trey asked. Brian remained silent. "I can wait as long as you can, so you might as well just tell me."

"I met Justin in the street. He wanted a ride. I gave him one."

"And…"

"We had a great time. He kissed me."

"Sounds like a blast, so where's the problem."

"He asked me to go out for coffee the next day. I guess I was feeling pretty cocky driving my Ferrari and kissing the blond, so I said yes. We were going to Starbucks and … and … I kind of had a panic attack. I ran away from him. I ran back to the fucking loft."

"You ran back to safety," Trey elaborated.

"Something like that. I was such a fool. I should have known that I can't go out in public like that."

"But you can. You do sometimes when you go to the office."

"That's different."

"It's not really, but tell me what happened."

"I … took some pills."

"To ease the panic?"

"To off myself."

"Fuck! You didn't!" Brian nodded his head. "So why are you still here?"

 

"Cynthia caught me right after I took them."

"Thank God."

"Don't be so sure."

"Why? What else happened?"

"Did I tell you that I'm a father?"

"Lindsay had the baby. Congratulations, man."

"Thanks."

"How does that make you feel?" Trey asked.

Brian stared at him. "Don't try that psychological shit on me. It didn't make me feel worthwhile or like venturing out again. It's not going to fix me."

"Nothing's going to fix you but time and you."

Brian snorted. "Nothing's going to fix me – period."

"Brian, don't start the pity crap. You're never going to walk again. We both know that, but that doesn't mean you can't have a life. You can go to Starbucks for coffee – with Justin," Trey added as an afterthought.

"No way! One attempt at that was enough."

"Don't give up so easily. Nobody said it would be a walk in the park, but you can ride in the park if you want to. Take it step by step. Don't try to do it all at once."

"Thanks for the pep talk, oh wise and sagacious one. You're full of shit, you know."

"I am not, and you know it."

There was a knock on the loft door. Trey saw Brian grimace.

"I'll go," Trey said.

He walked over to the door and pulled it back. There was a look of surprise on the face of the blond who stood there. 

"You must be Justin," Trey said. "I was just leaving."

Justin stood in the doorway watching the good looking black man disappear down the stairs.


	10. Close to Home

Justin hesitated in the doorway. He wasn't sure what he had interrupted. He wondered who the handsome black man disappearing down the stairs was.

"What do you want?" Brian's voice asked from somewhere over by the windows.

"May I come in?" Justin asked stepping tentatively over the threshold. He could see Brian over by the sofa. The man shrugged, so he proceeded a little farther into the loft. "Who was that?" Justin asked wondering how the man had known his name.

"That's really none of your business," Brian said cruelly.

"Of course not," Justin admitted. "But he used my name."

"Maybe you've done business with him sometime," Brian sneered.

"I don't think so," Justin said trying to place who the man might be. "Does he live in the building?"

"He's a fucking hustler," Brian growled trying to make Justin feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. He wasn't going to make small talk with this man who had hurt him. He wanted to know why he had suddenly appeared once again. 

Justin almost gasped. "You think I use hustlers?" he asked.

"No, it's only cripples like me who need hustlers," Brian replied sarcastically.

"Why are you saying this stuff?"

"What do you want?"

"I … I meant to call earlier but I've been really busy."

"No kidding," Brian said skeptically. "So you finally found some time to come up here. I repeat, what do you want?"

"I thought maybe you would come to my place for coffee tomorrow. I have something to show you."

"I think I've done just about all the coffee dates that I can stand."

"I know the other one didn't … work out, but please come."

"I don't think so."

"Please, we can start over."

"We've already started over too many fucking times already."

"But maybe we could get it right this time," Justin said batting his baby blues.

Brian stared at him. He thought, "What the fuck kind of game is the blond playing? One minute he wants me, wants to be with me, the next he can't get away fast enough."

"Is something wrong?" Justin asked.

Brian debated how to answer that. Justin didn't seem to think that anything bad had happened. Brian wondered if he had misread the situation. Some part of him still wanted to believe that Justin liked him, maybe even something more than like.

"Why did you rush out of here the other morning?" Brian asked needing to know.

"I told you that I had a meeting and a full schedule."

Brian frowned. Justin had said that he was going to be busy. Could that really be the reason he hadn't called?

"So what have you been doing that's kept you so busy?" Brian asked warily. He wondered if maybe that was all there was to it.

"I'm having a show of my work," Justin said with a smile.

"Your work?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you that I'm an artist?"

"I don't think so."

"I told you I went to PIFA."

"Yeah?"

"Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art."

"Oh," Brian said. Then he added, "I thought that was Penis Implants for Fuller Arousal."

Justin giggled knowing Brian was teasing him. "I hope after the other night you don't think I need them." Brian shook his head and Justin could see that crooked little grin. "Are we okay?" Justin asked.

Brian looked into the blue eyes. He wished, he hoped, they were all right, but he wasn't sure. "Okay about what?" he asked deciding to leave it up to Justin to put into words what he was too afraid to say.

"About what happened between us the other night."

"And what was that?"

"Why are you being like this?" Justin asked with a frown.

Brian wanted to be honest. He was always honest. But he couldn't admit it. Justin had to say it first. In fact he wasn't sure he could ever trust someone enough to admit that he might have some sort of feelings for them … maybe. "I need to know where you stand," Brian said staring at the floor.

"I didn't think I could make it any plainer. I practically threw myself at you."

"And then you ran out and I didn't hear from you for days."

Justin heard the catch in Brian's voice and the hurt in his words. He finally understood. "Did you think I wasn't coming back?" he asked softly.

"What else would I think?" was Brian's strangled reply.

"You are so fucking wrong!" Justin stated emphatically. "And I'm sorry if I made you think that. I've just had so much to do."

"Come here," Brian whispered.

Justin walked towards Brian. When he stood beside him, he hesitated waiting for an invitation. Brian hesitated for a moment and then his hand reached up to touch Justin's. His fingers wrapped around Justin's wrist and pulled him down. Justin half tumbled into Brian's lap and found himself engulfed in a long, sweet, sexy kiss.

When the kiss finally ended Justin looked into Brian's eyes. "I really am sorry for worrying you."

Brian was about to tell him that sorry was bullshit. Instead he said, "Don't ever do it again."

"I promise," Justin whispered, his warm breath washing over Brian's face.

Brian felt his cock stir. He still wanted this man … so much. He captured those delicious lips in another prolonged kiss. He could feel his stiffening cock trapped beneath Justin's soft bottom. He groaned.

"Let me help you with that," Justin whispered standing up. He unbuttoned Brian's jeans and dropped to his knees in front of the wheelchair. He freed Brian's cock tugging gently but forcefully as he did so. Brian groaned again. Justin pushed Brian's legs apart and positioned himself between them. He leaned in and licked the tip of the swollen member. His tongue probed the slit and Brian gasped.

"Oh fuck!" Brian moaned feeling his eyes roll back into his head at the sensation. He had missed Justin so much over the last two days. He hardly knew the man but his need for him was so elemental, so unexplainable, so all consuming.

Justin's lips surrounded the head of the cock and sucked it into his mouth. He felt Brian shiver throughout his body. He pulled on the head of the cock with his lips. Brian groaned. His lips slid down the shaft and he did his best to take the full length down his throat. He felt Brian's fingers bury themselves in his hair. The man pressed Justin's head urging him to go faster, harder, deeper. Justin was happy to oblige.

Soon Justin's mouth was moving up and down the shaft in swift, hard movements. Brian moaned above him. Justin had to stop for a moment. He wanted to witness the look on Brian's face that he knew he was causing. The glance was worth it. Brian's eyes were shut, his head thrown back, his lips parted as if it was too much effort to close them. Every aspect of Brian's face said that he had given himself over totally to the pleasure Justin was producing. Justin smiled for a split second. That was exactly what he had wanted to see. He renewed his ministrations. With a cry somewhere between a groan and a howl, Brian came forcefully into Justin's mouth. Justin milked him dry relishing every drop of the man's essence.

When he had sucked Brian dry, Justin slid up the man's body and deposited himself in Brian's lap. He wrapped his arms around Brian's neck and nuzzled his cheek against the man's. Brian sighed and opened his eyes. Justin's eyes looked deep into Brian's.

"Satisfied?" Justin asked with a little smirk.

"Umm…" Brian said. "Super-satisfied!"

"Do I get extra for super-satisfying you?"

"You get anything you want after that blowjob," Brian replied before he realized what he had said.

"Anything?" Justin asked with an evil grin.

Brian groaned. He knew he wasn't going to like this. "What do you want?"

"I want you to come to my art show."

"Justin … I … you know … I can't do that." Brian looked hurt and mortified that Justin had asked him, and that he couldn't meet the blond's expectations.

"Yes, you can."

"You saw what happened when I went out in the street," Brian said with a grimace at the memory.

"I saw what happened that night you gave me a ride too."

"And your point would be?" Brian asked testily.

"That you want to get back into the world and I can help you do that."

"And how would you do that?" Brian asked annoyed at being put in this position.

"We can start small. Maybe we could go visit Gus. That would be a start."

"That's not the same as going to some place … unknown."

"Oh, I see. It's the unknown that you're afraid of. How strangers will react to you."

"Something like that, but I'm not afraid. I don't want to deal with riff raff. That's all."

Justin did his best not to laugh. He really wanted Brian to come to his show. He also wanted the man to have a life beyond this loft, maybe a life that could include him.

"Maybe that's the key," Justin said. "If you think of people as riff raff, that their opinion isn't important, then you could go out among them."

"Like I would want to!" Brian snorted.

"I think that's exactly what you want, if you would only admit it."

Brian stared at this young man who seemed to understand him on some elemental level. He knew that everything Justin had said was true, even if he refused to admit it.

"How do you propose to produce this miracle?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"Why don't we go visit Gus this morning? We can see how that goes and maybe try something more this afternoon. My show opens tomorrow night."

"I … I don't know. I don't think that would work."

"Call … Lindsay. Was that her name?" Justin handed Brian the phone.

Brian stared at the cordless phone like it was a snake that might rear up and bite him at any second.

"Go on," Justin ordered walking over to the windows to give Brian a chance to make the call in privacy.

A few minutes later Brian said, "Justin, she says we can come right now."

"Good, let's go."

"I thought you were so busy."

"I was, but everything's basically ready for tomorrow night. Can we walk to Lindsay's or should we take the van?"

"We could walk but I don't think I'm ready for that. It's quite a ways."

"Van it is," Justin replied. "Need anything else to take with you?"

Brian shook his head. He knew this was a bad idea, but he didn't know how to turn Justin down. He wheeled over to the counter, grabbed the keys to the van and began to set the alarm. Justin smiled slightly as he watched.

When they reached Lindsay's and got out of the van, Justin groaned. The door to the house was up a set of stairs. There was no way Brian could get into the house. That ruined everything he had planned.

Brian watched the play of emotions across Justin's face. He couldn't help but smile. The young man got it. He understood what steps meant to someone in a wheelchair. They were a barrier that cut the handicapped off from the rest of the world. That's why he had made his own barriers in the loft. He could control those. The outside world was a different story.

"I…" Justin began not knowing what to say and afraid to look at Brian.

Brian decided to put him out of his misery. "Lindsay has lemonade for us in the back yard," he said.

"Oh! That's great," Justin replied brightening up. He began to follow Brian along the path leading around the house.

Lindsay was sitting at the picnic table, lemonade and cookies at the ready. She held a wiggling Gus in her arms. "Look who's here, sweetie," she said to the tiny baby when she spotted Brian and Justin. "It's daddy and a friend."

"Justin," Brian said abruptly making sure Lindsay knew she was to treat Justin kindly, not that she didn't treat everybody kindly.

Brian wheeled over to the table finding it harder going on the grass. His new chair handled it pretty well though. He accepted Gus from his mother cradling the little bundle against his chest. He couldn't believe the wave of emotion that struck him once again. Who knew that a baby inspired such feeling? He wondered if his own father, or his mother for that matter, had ever felt anything like this when they held him. He seriously doubted it.

Lindsay was pouring lemonade for them all. Justin was already munching on a cookie.

Brian stared into Gus' face. He took one of the little hands into his own and examined each finger. The baby burbled and cooed. Brian smiled down at his son. He couldn't believe that he had helped create something so small and wonderful. His son. This was his son. Despite being stuck in a fucking wheelchair he had helped produce this tiny, perfect creature. He wondered what lay in store for his son. Despite what he had told Lindsay before, he didn't think he could walk away and never see Gus. Gus might need him, and he was beginning to think he needed Gus.

"Brian," Lindsay said holding a glass of lemonade towards him. Brian shook his head. He was thirsty, but not for lemonade. He wanted to study his son, memorize every feature, in case he didn't get to see him anymore. That's what he had promised Lindsay. They would probably hold him to it. If only he had known.

After a few minutes Gus settled into the crook of his arm and fell asleep.

"I think he likes you," Justin said with a smile.

"He's my son," Brian said proudly accepting the lemonade now that Gus was asleep.

"Brian, I've been thinking," Lindsay began. "We could have a ramp made here at the back. You could come visit Gus anytime you want."

Brian was touched at the suggestion. He would like to come visit his son. Then something else occurred to him. "And what does Melanie think about that?" Brian asked sarcastically. Lindsay hesitated. "She doesn't know anything about it, does she?" Brian asked suspecting that Lindsay had just decided to suggest that he visit the baby.

"She'll be fine with it," Lindsay said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I could call her," Lindsay suggested.

"Why don't we take Gus for a ride down the street while Lindsay talks to Melanie," Justin suggested. Brian looked spooked and glanced at the baby. "You said you'd try. It will be a small first step, and it's a quiet neighborhood. We probably won't even meet anybody," Justin tried to convince him.

Brian nodded taking a deep breath and holding the sleeping Gus a little closer. He noticed the look that passed between Justin and Lindsay. They must have been talking about him while he was studying Gus. They probably had some scheme all worked out.

They made their way out to the street. Brian looked anxiously up and down the sidewalk. Nobody was in sight. Slowly they began moving towards the park that Brian knew was not far down the way. Justin stayed close to the wheelchair watching Brian closely. He was glad their little expedition had started off quietly.

They followed the walkway into the park and found a bench where Justin sat down. He slid up against the end staying beside Brian who pulled his chair up as close as he could. Gus slept blissfully on.

"Think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Brian said to Justin.

Justin batted those blue eyes at him. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked as innocently as he could muster.

"You think your little plan is working perfectly, don't you?"

"Well, isn't it?"

Brian snorted. "So far," he had to admit.

Suddenly a shadow fell across Brian. He glanced up to see a middle aged woman looking at Gus. Brian clutched Gus a little closer and looked ready to run.

"He's a beautiful baby," the woman said. "What's his name?"

Brian looked up and saw the smile on the woman's face. "Gus," he said softly. Justin beamed at him.

"Hello, Gus," the woman continued. "You look like you're enjoying your ride with your father." She took Gus' little hand into hers.

Brian flinched but stayed still. He took a couple of deep breaths. "How do you know he's my son?" Brian asked.

"He looks just like you," she said. "You're very lucky to have such a wonderful little boy."

"I know," Brian said almost in a whisper. The lady smiled at Brian and Gus, and moved away.

"Nice lady," Justin said.

"Very perceptive," Brian said with that crooked grin.

"Want to go back?" Justin asked.

"Think that's all I can handle for one day?"

"Baby steps," Justin replied.

"Gus and me together."

They walked back to Lindsay's, meeting one person along the way. He paid no attention to them. Brian didn't seem too upset as he passed by. They returned Gus to his mother and learned that Brian could come visit Gus whenever he wanted.

"Did you have to twist her arm or did you promise, God forbid, wild, uncensored lesbian sex?" Brian asked.

"Briiiiaaaannn!" Lindsay objected.

"We better go," Justin said starting to leave and hoping Brian would follow him. When they got to the van Justin turned to Brian. "Want to go to lunch somewhere?" Justin asked.

Brian stared up at him. "You think you're pretty smart. Sure, I'll go to lunch with you. And when I freak out you can be there to pick up the fucking pieces. Is that what you want? Then you can feel all saintly and righteous looking after the poor, pathetic cripple."

Justin glared back. "You know, if you weren't in that fucking chair, I'd break your goddam legs for you, you sanctimonious son of a bitch."

"Okay, then," Brian said sheepishly. "Let's go to lunch."

Justin's mouth dropped open. This maddening, enigmatic, arrogant asshole would be the death of him, but he couldn't think of a better way to go, except maybe dying in bed with this maddening, enigmatic, arrogant asshole. "Sure," was all he said.

When they returned to the loft a while later Brian was riding a high. He had managed to get through lunch at a little outdoor café Justin had recommended. He had had a couple of tense moments, but he had weathered them. He was proud to say that he had done lunch.

As they waited for the elevator Justin said, "Um, I hope you don't mind but I need to run an errand."

Brian blanched. He couldn't stop himself. This sounded all too familiar. "What do you have to do?" Brian asked before he could stop himself.

"I can't tell you. It has to do with what I have for you tomorrow."

Brian looked at him quizzically. He didn't know whether to pursue it further. 

"I have to go to the gallery tonight, so can we make a date for coffee tomorrow morning?" Justin asked.

"A date!" Brian snorted. "I used to say that I didn't do dates, and I've never had one."

"Then this will be a whole new experience for you," Justin grinned.

"God, the things you make me do!"

"Does that mean you'll be there?"

Brian nodded. Justin headed for the front door turning once to give Brian one of his megawatt smiles.

"I am so fucked," Brian said to himself as he wheeled into the elevator.


	11. Close to Home

Brian sat in front of the tall windows in the loft. It was the wee small hours of the morning, some time after two. He had been unable to sleep replaying his day with Justin over and over. He could barely believe that it had happened, and it was all because of Justin.

He had been able to go out in public. He had gone to the park. He had actually talked to a stranger, a nice lady who was interested in Gus. He had gone to lunch with Justin. The waiter had treated him like a human being, not some freak. Maybe it was possible for him to have a normal life, go out in public, see his son, go to lunch. 

He wondered if it was all a pipedream. Maybe today was a fluke. If he tried to do the same things tomorrow, would the outcome be different? He couldn't stand that look of pity from people. He hadn't seen it today … surprisingly. He was sure there would be looks of pity in the future if he kept going out to public places. Maybe it was significant that no one had given him that look today. Maybe the percentage of people who thought of him as pathetic was smaller than he thought. Maybe he could handle their reactions. Maybe.

He wheeled over to the computer. He wondered if BB might be on. He wanted to share his newfound freedom with someone, even if it might not last all that long. Sure enough his favorite cyber blond was there.

PP: Hey, blondie, glad you're here.

BB: Happy to oblige. Can't you sleep either?

PP: No, I had the best day of my life today.

BB: Are you gushing, oh cynical one?

PP: Have to admit I probably am.

BB: So what has brought about this revolutionary change of attitude?

PP: He came back.

BB: The one who had you so pissed off last time, the one who hurt you, the one who couldn't wait to get away from you?

PP: That's the one.

BB: So what happened?

PP: I had it all wrong.

BB: What do you mean?

PP: He wasn't trying to escape from me. He was just busy.

BB: I'm happy for you, but what the hell was he doing that had him so busy?

PP: He's an artist like you.

BB: No shit!

PP: He's getting ready for a show.

BB: So am I.

PP: I thought you had said that.

BB: That's quite a coincidence.

PP: You can say that again.

BB: Where's his show?

PP: I never asked him.

BB: Where did he go to school?

PP: PIFA.

BB: Fuck!

PP: Why did you say that?

PP: Hello, are you there?

PP: What happened? Don't leave me hanging like this.

Brian wondered what was going on. Something wasn't right. It couldn't be that his cyber blond went to PIFA too, could it? Fuck, it couldn't be that…

Brian heard the knock on the loft door. The smile began to spread across his face. He wheeled over to the door cutting the alarm and pulling the door back. Justin stood there his megawatt smile at full voltage.

"Penis Implants for Fuller Arousal!" they both blurted out.

A pair of sheepish grins, a couple of shakes of their heads and they found themselves in each other's arms. Justin sat in Brian's lap, a place that was fast becoming his favorite spot to be.

"How could we not have known?" Justin asked after he gave Brian a soft, sweet kiss.

"We're fucking stupid!" Brian teased.

"I guess it never occurred to me that my net friend could be so close to home. I thought you probably lived in New York or Florida or … someplace exciting."

"Anywhere but fucking Pittsburgh!"

"Yeah."

"I can't believe I told you all that stuff about the guy who hurt me," Brian admitted feeling self-conscious and a little ashamed of his lack of faith in Justin.

"I didn't know until a few minutes ago that it was me you were talking about. I totally sympathized with you. Your guy sounded like a total jerk."

"But that jerk was you."

"Who knew? Anyway it doesn't matter now."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

Justin's lips found Brian's in a much deeper and more demanding kiss than the first one they had shared.

"I want you," Justin whispered.

"Not half as much as I want you. Can you stay?" 

"Just try to get rid of me," Justin grinned.

"Then I think we should lock the door and retire to the bedroom," Brian suggested.

"That sounds like a plan. Shit!"

"What?"

"I think I left my apartment wide open when I ran up here."

"Then you better go lock up."

"Yeah," Justin agreed reluctantly standing up.

"You will come back?"

"Of course I will. Just let anybody or anything try to stop me."

"I'll be waiting in the bedroom," Brian said wanting to get into bed before Justin had to witness his struggle with the chair and his clothes.

"I don't want you to think I'll be put off by anything you have to do," Justin said truthfully sensing Brian's apprehension.

"Lock my door when you come in," Brian said with his crooked grin.

Justin grinned back before he made his way down the stairs. Brian went up to the bedroom. He got rid of his clothes and levered himself onto the bed. He spread the sheet across his useless legs and smoothed it out on Justin's side of the bed. He liked the sound of that – Justin's side.

He leaned back on the pillows and shook his head. How could this all have come about? It was almost beyond coincidence, almost like fate, destiny. The blond on the internet that he had so enjoyed joking with and sharing barbs with and baring his soul to was his blond, his Justin. 

He heard the loft door sliding on its track. Justin was back. He hadn't let him down. He couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

"Hey," Justin said coming up the steps on the opposite side from the ramp. That would take him to his side of the bed. How had he known? Brian didn't care. He just knew that something profound had happened to him and to his life since his first glimpses of a blond head and his first words with BB. "Waiting for something?" Justin grinned.

"Thought something interesting might pass this way if I waited long enough."

"I'd say your wait is over."

"So would I," Brian groaned as Justin removed his shirt.

"See something you like?" Justin teased.

"Maybe," Brian admitted watching the clothes slowly disappearing from Justin's beautiful body. He was so perfect like Brian had been at one time. Brian blinked back an almost tear. The action was not lost on Justin.

"What?" he asked. Brian shook his head. "Tell me, please," Justin asked as he slid off his underwear and crawled under the sheet next to Brian.

"I was just wishing that I could be as perfect as you."

"You are."

Brian snorted. "How do you say that with a straight face?" he demanded.

"There's not much straight about me," Justin giggled. "Lucky for you." He slid closer to Brian running his hand down Brian's chest to his happy trail. He could feel the muscles ripple under his fingers. He could see the sheet start to tent as Brian's cock responded. 

"Very lucky for me," Brian moaned pulling Justin on top of him and capturing his lips in a demanding kiss.

Justin began moving his hips making them both gasp as the delicious friction had the desired effect. Justin's lips chewed at Brian's. He wanted this man like he had never wanted anything before. Brian pushed him up breaking the kiss.

"Roll over," he commanded.

Justin looked questioningly at him. He didn't think Brian could get up onto his knees to fuck him from behind.

"Just do it," Brian stated firmly. Justin rolled over. 

He felt Brian shifting around, felt the sheet disappear from around his lower body. He felt Brian's hands grasp his hips and spread the cheeks of his ass. Then nothing.

He wondered if Brian had suddenly realized that this wasn't going to work. "Brian?" he said.

"You do have the most glorious bubble butt," Brian stated continuing to study the perfect globes he held in his hands.

Justin giggled. "That's the other meaning of BB," he said.

"No!" Brian reacted. "Didn't I call you that the other day?"

"Yeah, I almost made the connection at that moment, but others have called me bubble butt, so I thought it was just coincidence."

"I wish I was the first," Brian said thoughtfully.

"You can be my first everything else," Justin said smiling over his shoulder at Brian.

Brian grinned back. That statement held such promise of the future. For the first time in a very long time he thought maybe he did have a future, a future with this wonderful young man.

"Are you just going to stare at my ass?" Justin asked looking back at Brian. "It is good for other things."

"I know," Brian groaned. 

His tongue licked down the length of Justin's crack. Justin felt the cool saliva Brian's tongue deposited in its wake. He moaned into the pillow below him. He felt Brian's tongue return to his hole licking all around it and, oh God, sucking on it, hard. Justin moaned louder. Brian's tongue probed into the pucker gradually forcing the muscles to allow him entrance. His tongue breached the first ring. Justin's head came up and he moaned again. Brian stiffened his tongue and probed deeper. Justin began to gasp and writhe beneath him. He bucked back wanting the tongue to go farther. 

When Brian felt Justin was sufficiently ready he reached over to the nightstand and handed him a condom. Justin rolled over as Brian turned onto his back. Justin straddled him and smiled down as he ripped open the foil packet. He sheathed Brian's dripping cock. 

Justin stared down into the hazel eyes that looked unwaveringly back at him. He felt Brian position his cock under him and he began to lower himself onto it. He closed his eyes as the head entered, expelling a breath at the twinge of pain. He opened his eyes after the pain subsided. Brian studied him intently. He slid down onto the rigid shaft until he was fully impaled. Justin had fucked and been fucked by men before, but nothing had ever felt like this. He knew it was more than just a fuck. He hoped Brian knew that too.

Justin sat astride Brian's hips, waiting. He wanted something more from Brian. He felt Brian's hands slide under his ass and push him up. It didn't look like he was going to get what he wanted just yet, but there was time. He'd give Brian the fuck of his life. He'd make him love him later.

Raising up and sitting down hard, Justin heard the air being expelled from Brian's lungs. He leaned in and kissed Brian his tongue sweeping all around the inside of Brian's mouth. He loved the taste of this man, his mouth, his skin, his cock, his spunk. Maybe later he could taste Brian's ass too. As he began his up and down movements he wondered if taste had a lot to do with physical attraction. He could honestly say that he had never tasted another man who tasted as sweet as Brian. Maybe that was a big part of why they were destined to be together. And they were destined for that. Justin knew it deep inside him.

He rode Brian's cock with wild abandon. It fit perfectly inside him despite its size. They were perfect for each other. Justin bounced in utter ecstasy as he felt Brian's hand around his cock jacking him off. He threw his head back gasping for air and moaning uncontrollably.

"Now!" he yelled and came with blinding force.

Brian called Justin's name as the man's anal muscles tried to cut his dick in half. He shot into the condom again and again and again. When he regained his senses Justin lay on his chest, his face buried in Brian's hair. Brian could feel his cock still up the warm, velvet channel of Justin's ass.

Before he thought about it his arm came around Justin's back making sure they stayed together. He reached for the sheet with his other hand. Pulling it up over them he allowed himself to drift off with the new and profound thought that he had everything he'd ever wanted safe in his arms.

Brian awoke hours later to sun streaming through the gap he had left in the curtains. He was alone. Justin had left. He sat up hoping Justin was somewhere else in the loft. All was silence. He wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen unless he had stopped breathing. Brian threw back the sheet. What had happened this time? Why had Justin left?

He thought back to their coupling in the early morning hours. He had never felt the things he had experienced with Justin with anyone else. When he had the use of his legs he never wanted to feel those emotions about another man. He never wanted to depend on anyone else or have them depend on him. He wanted to be free. He wanted to fuck. He didn't want to need someone else.

And then there was Justin. He wanted him and needed him, wanted to be able to depend on him. He never wanted to let him down. He wanted to fuck the blond, but he also wanted to make love to Justin. He wondered if he would ever be able to tell him that.

And where was he? Why had he disappeared again? Brian didn't think he could stand going days without seeing him again. He sighed. Maybe he would come back. If he didn't Brian decided he would go to Justin's apartment and claim him back. He never ran after anybody, but this one was worth it.

Brian hauled himself into his chair and decided he needed a shower. When he emerged a while later he could swear he smelled coffee. He wheeled down the ramp to find the table set, bagels and cream cheese laid out and Justin smiling at him.

"Perfect timing," Justin said. "The coffee just finished running through."

"Smells great," Brian said. "Where did you go?"

"I woke up about an hour ago. I was going to make us breakfast, but peanut butter and poppers didn't seem to cut it. So I went out and picked us up some bagels and started the coffee when I got back. I heard you in the shower."

"Come here," Brian said. Justin slid onto Brian's lap smiling at the knowledge that Brian wanted to give him a good morning kiss.

The kiss was gentle and sweet. Brian tried to convey some of the newfound feelings that he was beginning to experience. Justin finally broke the kiss.

"You need to eat," he said with a grin. "Have to keep your strength up."

Brian snorted but allowed Justin to stand up. Justin went to the kitchen to get the coffee pot. Brian settled his chair at the table picking up a bagel. It was still warm. Suddenly he was ravenous.

"Justin," he said watching the young man fill two mugs with coffee. "I think there's a jar of grape jelly in that cupboard next to the fridge." Justin looked and triumphantly held up a jar of Smuckers.

"Yum, my favorite," he said bringing it and the coffee to the table.

They munched on their bagels in silence watching each other, sizing up how their habits fit together, taking note of reactions to each thing the other did.

When they were pretty well finished with the bagels Justin got up and poured them each a refill of coffee.

"That was a nice treat," Brian said with a grin wiping his mouth.

"Glad you liked it," Justin replied returning the coffee pot to the maker and turning the machine off. "I … I brought something up from my apartment when I was out. This is what I was going to give you when we had coffee this morning." He waited for Brian's reaction.

"Coffee hasn't worked out so well for us," Brian said. Justin smiled a little at the "us". He liked the sound of that. "Maybe we should stick to breakfast."

"Everyday?"

"Sounds good to me."

Justin's best smile lit up the loft. Brian felt his gut flip. He wanted to always see that smile in the morning.

"So what is this thing you want to give me?" Brian asked. Things were getting decidedly too emotional. He needed to get back to more practical things.

Justin bent down behind the counter. He stood up and walked towards Brian. He was carrying a frame. Brian groaned inwardly. Justin must be giving him a piece of his artwork. He hoped he liked what the man did. He wasn't sure what he could say if he thought Justin's art stunk.

Justin turned the frame around and rested it on the table in front of Brian. Brian felt his heart swell and tears appear in the corners of his eyes.

"My God," was all he could get out.

In front of him was a sketch of the moment when Gus had touched his nose in the hospital room. Justin had captured the essence of him and his son in the portraits, but he had also captured the raw emotion of that moment. Brian didn't think he had ever seen himself look so vulnerable and so … happy. He thought he had covered up the emotions that ran through him at that moment, but Justin had seen them. And then he had captured them in this beautiful drawing.

"Do you like it?" Justin asked getting worried by Brian's continued silence.

"It's perfect," Brian breathed. "How … how did you know?"

"That you felt such love for your son?" Justin asked. Brian nodded. "I told you I'm an artist. I'm very observant. But it was written so plainly on your face at that moment."

"Did you draw it from memory?" Brian asked fascinated at how Justin had been able to capture this.

"I'm good, but not that good," Justin said with a grin. "Remember when you asked everybody to leave the room at the hospital?" Brian nodded. "One of the lesbians had taken a picture at that moment when Gus touched you. I asked her for a copy of it. I got it the next day. That's part of the reason I didn't come to see you. I was drawing and then I had to get it framed."

"It's great, Justin. Thank you."

"I'm just happy you like it. We could find a good spot to hang it," Justin suggested.

"In a minute. I just want to look at it."

Justin smiled and began clearing the table while Brian stared at the drawing. He was so pleased that Brian really seemed to appreciate his work and the effort he had made to get it done so quickly. Now all he had to do was make sure that Brian came to his art show. He hoped the plan he and Lindsay had put in motion would work. The last thing he wanted to do now was piss Brian off.


	12. Close to Home

Justin paced back and forth across the gallery. The opening would begin in less than half an hour. Brian had promised to come. Justin had made sure that there was a parking space nearby for the van. He had explained that there was an elevator near the parking spot that would bring him up to the gallery which was above the street level shops in the building housing it.

Brian had said he would come, but Justin hadn't missed the hesitancy and the touch of fear that was evident in Brian's voice. He hoped Brian wouldn't change his mind. He wanted him there and he wanted Brian to reclaim this part of his life. He should be able to go to public functions, and he should be able to do it without fear or worry. They should be able to go out together.

Justin glanced at his watch again. Fifteen minutes until the doors opened. He wanted Brian to be there before the crowds, at least he hoped there'd be crowds, filled the space. That way Brian would have a better chance of acclimatizing to the increasing numbers of people. He had made sure that Lindsay and Mel had received invitations. He wanted Brian to have some familiar faces present to support him. They had promised to come early and they were bringing a friend.

Suddenly the elevator door opened. Brian wheeled out looking good enough to eat. He was wearing a black cashmere sweater and pants. Justin beamed at him. Brian started towards Justin. Justin could see the apprehension on his face.

"Hey," Justin said softly.

"Hey."

"I was getting worried that you had changed your mind."

"I would have liked to," Brian said with a grimace, "but if I promise something I carry through."

Justin squeezed his hand. "Would you like to meet the owner of the gallery before the doors open?"

"Sure," Brian said glancing towards the front doors of the gallery. Justin wondered if he was expecting to see hordes of people poised to rush him once the doors opened.

Justin led the way over to the office. He had explained Brian's problem to the owner who had been very supportive of trying to help Brian through this night. Justin hoped he didn't mention anything about what they had discussed. That would really freak Brian.

"Alan," Justin said. A middle aged man very nicely dressed turned to see who was speaking to him. "Alan, this is my friend, Brian Kinney. Brian, this is Alan Garrett."

Brian extended his hand. Alan shook it. Brian detected no bad vibes from the man. So far, so good.

"Nice to meet you, Brian," Alan said. "I'm going to have to run. I need to check the food and open the doors."

"Sure," Brian replied.

"Oh, and Brian," Alan added turning back towards them, "if you get sick of the artsy-fartsy crowd, this office is a good, safe haven. But you may have to fight me for the comfortable chair."

Alan disappeared out the door. Brian looked up at Justin. "Didn't he notice that I have my own chair?"

"Apparently not," Justin said with a grin.

"Can you believe that he called his clientele the artsy-fartsy crowd?"

"And what do you call your clients?" Justin asked.

Brian looked sheepish. "Point taken."

Justin grinned. Alan had handled that very well, better than he could have hoped for. He wanted Brian to know that he had an escape route if things got too much for him, but he didn't want Brian to know that he had laid out the contingency plan if things didn't go well. Alan had managed to pass on the information without alerting Brian.

"It looks like your first admirers have arrived," Brian said nodding towards people they could see through the glass door of the office.

"Coming?" Justin asked.

Brian took a deep breath. "Right behind you," Brian said.

They went out into the gallery. Justin pointed out the area where his artwork was hanging. Brian said he would go take a look while Justin schmoozed potential buyers. Justin smiled as Brian wheeled away to the other section of the gallery. Things were going well so far.

Brian had been looking at Justin's work admiring the color and composition and emotion that the young man was able to capture when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hi," Lindsay said with a smile. She leaned down and gave Brian a kiss on the cheek. "He's very good," Lindsay added nodding towards Justin's paintings.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"His work is so forceful and emotional for someone so young," Lindsay said studying the closest canvas.

"I was thinking much the same thing," Brian said with a little smile.

"We'll make an art connoisseur out of you yet."

"I don't think that's terribly likely but I can feel the power of his work."

"That's an amazing compliment, Brian. Make sure you tell Justin that."

Brian looked up at her and nodded. "Where's the other half?" he asked.

"She's around somewhere. We brought a friend with us."

"Who's that?" Brian asked.

"There they are," Lindsay said pointing to Mel and a woman in a wheelchair.

Brian glared at Lindsay wondering what the fuck was going on. Lindsay didn't know anyone in a wheelchair except him. If they had set him up, he was going to wring somebody's neck. 

Mel and the woman approached.

"Brian," Lindsay said. "This is Adrienne Bennett. She's an artist too. Adrienne, this is Brian Kinney. He's Gus' father."

"Nice to meet you, Brian," Adrienne said. "You've got one sweet little boy there."

"Yeah," Brian agreed softening a little to the woman who seemed impressed with Gus.

"So what do you do, Brian?" Adrienne asked.

Brian watched Mel and Lindsay quickly glide away. He knew they had put him together with this woman for some reason, probably a pep talk about being in a wheelchair.

"You mean other than sit in this fucking contraption?" Brian asked with all the sarcasm he could muster.

"Precisely," Adrienne replied seemingly unfazed by the venom in Brian's tone.

"I'm in advertising," Brian spat out. He wanted to escape.

"Oh, so you're one of the assholes that convinced me to get a Thighmaster."

"What the fuck?" Brian asked staring at this seemingly insane woman.

"It's a joke, sweetie."

"You could have fooled me," Brian retorted although he did see the self-deprecating humor in it.

"I don't think you're anybody's fool."

"Then why are you still talking to me? You're not going to convince me that sitting in this fucking wheelchair for the rest of my life is something to look forward to."

"That's the last thing I would try to do. Being in this contraption is the fucking pits, but it's also not the end of the world."

"Says who?"

"Says me, asshole. Pardon my French. I think I better go look at the rest of the art." She turned away to leave.

"Lindsay said you were an artist," Brian said. He wanted to know why Justin and Lindsay thought he should talk to this woman.

"Are you finished being rude?" Adrienne asked.

"Probably not. I always say it's my most endearing trait."

"And they let you get away with it?"

Brian knew he was blushing. "They don't like to tick me off."

"So you milk it for all it's worth. They're afraid to upset the poor cripple?"

"Fuck you!"

"I wish, sweetie, but I understand I'm the wrong sex. The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

Brian stared at her. She was doing exactly what he used to do with his friends – be bluntly, almost cruelly, honest to make them realize what they were doing. "You're a lot like I used to be," Brian said thoughtfully.

"How so? The chair?"

"That's almost incidental," Brian admitted. "It's the size of your balls I'm referring to." Adrienne laughed, a true, clear laugh. Brian smiled. He liked to make people laugh. "There's an office over there that we could use." Brian pointed towards Alan's office.

"Why, sir, are you propositioning me?"

"Maybe," Brian replied with that wicked grin. "Let's go."

\-----

Hours later Brian and Justin lay in the bed in the loft. They had fucked and then made love. Justin lay curled against Brian's body tracing circles around the man's nipple.

"I'm really glad you came to my show," Justin said softly.

"I am too," Brian admitted. "You are a wonderful artist. I couldn't get over the power of your pieces."

"Wow," Justin said sitting up a bit to look into Brian's eyes. "That's quite a compliment."

"I mean it."

"So where did you go for most of the evening? Alan's office?"

Brian nodded. "And I had company."

"Oh, who?" Justin asked.

"The woman you and Lindsay sent to straighten me out."

"Did she?" Justin asked holding his breath. Brian didn't seem mad about their plan.

"I'm still gay, if that's what you're asking."

"I didn't think that was ever in doubt."

"She's an interesting woman," Brian said seriously. "I like her."

Justin grinned into Brian's chest. He was so glad Brian wasn't mad at what he and Lindsay had cooked up. In fact Brian seemed to like what they had done.

"So what did she say to you?" Justin asked.

"She said I should stop hiding behind my chair."

"What?" Justin sat up staring at Brian. He couldn't imagine anyone saying that to Brian.

"That's what she said."

"And she's still alive … right?"

Brian snorted. "Yeah, alive and grabbing the world by the balls as we speak."

"Wow!"

"I have been hiding, you know. I realize that now. I had panic attacks because I didn't want people to see that I couldn't do what I used to be able to do when I could walk. Adrienne told me to be proud of what I can do from my chair. She said that very few people she knew were as successful and funny … and gallant as I am, legs or no legs."

"Gallant?" Justin asked.

"I held the door to the office for her and got her a drink. I do have social graces if I choose to use them."

"You'll have to demonstrate those to me sometime," Justin giggled.

Brian gave him a swat and said, "Twat."

"You're not mad at Lindsay and me for setting you up with Adrienne?" Justin's head was back on Brian's chest. He couldn't look at the man when he asked that question.

"I was thoroughly pissed when I realized what you two had plotted."

"But you're not mad now?"

"No, twat, I'm not mad. I thought I showed you as much several times since we got back."

"Yeah," Justin giggled, "but I just wanted to make sure."

"Well, don't pull anything like that in the future."

"I won't … unless you need it."

"Justin knows best," Brian snorted.

"You could say that. I've been told that I'm very perceptive and bright."

"Maybe I'll start calling you Bright Bottom. You know, BB."

"That makes me sound like a Hobbit."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

"Not funny. I like Blond Bombshell better."

"Or Bubble Butt."

"Or Bossy Bottom."

"I haven't heard that one before. But I should have known that from the first day I met you."

Justin tweaked Brian's nipple at that comment. Brian let out a little howl and then captured Justin's lips in a sweet kiss.

"What's the other meaning of PP?" Justin asked as the kiss ended.

"You haven't figured it out?" Brian asked. "I thought you were so bright and perceptive."

Justin frowned, thinking of possible meanings. "Tell me," he said giving up.

"Paraplegic," Brian whispered.

"I don't like that at all," Justin stated.

"I don't like it much either. It's actually what PP stood for when I first started using it. When someone wanted to know what it meant I couldn't put it into words, so it became Perfect Pecker instead."

"You do have a perfect pecker."

"Yours ain't half bad either," Brian chuckled. He couldn't believe that he was having this conversation and enjoying it. He could learn to love this smart little fucker, maybe he already did.

"We could put it to use," Justin whispered in his ear. Brian felt his cock swell at the soft breath on his skin and the promise of infinite pleasure.

"What did you have in mind?" Brian asked.

"I want to fuck you," Justin whispered.

"I … I don't know," Brian replied. He had never been much of a bottom and not once since he had been in the chair. He wasn't even sure how they could do it.

"I'll be gentle," Justin promised.

"But I'm not sure how …"

"Roll onto your stomach," Justin said.

"But I can't get up on my knees."

"Sh," Justin whispered rolling Brian over.

Brian felt Justin's tongue immediately attack his pucker. It poked and prodded until it broke through the ring of muscle. Brian cried out at the sensation. It had been so long since someone had done this to him. He felt Justin's tongue delving and licking. He let out a long moan.

"Feel good?" Justin asked.

"Oh, God!" Brian groaned holding on to the sheet for dear life.

Justin continued to work his magic for awhile longer. He had Brian moaning and panting and begging. He sat up, grabbed a condom and donning it lubed himself generously. 

"Roll onto your back," Justin ordered. He squirted more lube on his fingers and gently lifted Brian's legs onto his shoulders. They were dead weight but he could bear it. They'd both forget about that if all went well.

"Justin," Brian said. Justin could hear his worry.

"It's all right," he assured the man. "In fact it's going to be great."

His lubed fingers probed and stretched Brian's pucker. Justin watched his lover's face pass from worry to bliss as he continued to open him up.

"Ready?" he asked as he positioned his cock. Brian nodded.

Slowly Justin breached the muscle and slid in. Brian groaned and clenched his jaw. It had been so long since he had experienced this. He remembered the pain but also the enjoyment. Justin slid in farther. He wanted to make this good for Brian. He held onto Brian's knees knowing the man had no control of his legs to keep them on Justin's shoulders.

"Fuck!" Brian gasped.

"Are you okay?" Justin asked. He looked down at the face of this man who was becoming so important to him.

Brian nodded. "I'd almost forgotten," he whispered.

Justin smiled and began to pump. He could feel his orgasm building almost immediately. He wanted to prolong their connection but he knew this was going to be over soon. So much emotion was involved that it was hard to control himself. He pushed in again and again increasing the speed. He could feel the telltale tingles running up and down his spine. His balls rose up and he saw Brian reach for his cock and give it tugs in time with Justin's thrusts.

"Brian," Justin breathed.

"Justin," Brian gasped in response. 

And then they were both coming and it was magnificent. Heat burst from Justin's cock, from every pore in his body, from every fiber of his being. He jerked uncontrollably and slumped down on top of Brian. Brian felt the world tip on its axis and then explode in heat and light and wonder. He felt Justin slide down on top of him and he grasped the young man holding him against his chest as some wayward tears escaped his eyes.

"I love you," Brian whispered.

"I love you too," Justin whispered as he smiled against Brian's chest. "Are you okay?" he asked rolling off Brian and making sure Brian's legs weren't in some impossible position.

"Never better," Brian said huskily staring over at Justin. "I didn't think I'd ever experience anything like that again. It was better than great."

"Thank you, kind sir," Justin teased snuggling up against his man. "It was pretty great from my side too."

"I think you need to change your net name from BB to TT."

"What's TT?" Justin asked looking up at Brian.

"Guess."

"Total twat?"

"Never."

"I'm glad you said that. What does it stand for?"

"Terrific Top."

Justin giggled and then hit Brian with one of his wondrous smiles. Brian could feel the warmth of the smile flow through him. He could see how happy he had just made Justin. He wanted to do that over and over again for the rest of his life.

"I like that," Justin said. "I'll go change that right now." He pretended to get up so he could go to his computer.

"Not now, twat," Brian said with a chuckle holding on to Justin's wrist.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Justin said snuggling back into what was fast becoming his favorite position, curled up against Brian with his head on Brian's chest. He could feel Brian's fingers sift through his hair. He sighed in contentment. "I think you should change the meaning of PP," he whispered.

"You don't think my pecker's perfect anymore?" Brian asked.

Justin giggled. "Of course it's perfect, none better."

"Then why do you want me to change it?"

"I was referring to the other meaning."

"So what do you want it to mean?"

"I was thinking maybe … Potential Partner?" Justin whispered not looking at Brian.

Brian tensed up and then took a deep breath. This was the best thing he had ever heard in his pathetic life since the accident. He wanted Justin on a physical level like he had never wanted another man. He wanted him on an emotional level too. Justin understood him in a way that he hardly understood himself. He thought back over the last few days and all the things Justin had done for him. He felt so safe and loved and … whole. He never thought he'd feel like that again. He knew that he needed Justin deep in his soul. The man had touched something inside him that went beyond emotion. It had to do with his very existence. Justin made existence worthwhile.

But… He hesitated. How could he ask this man to saddle himself with a cripple? How could he expect Justin to put up with his limitations day after day after day? He knew he couldn't do that.

"I don't think I'd make much of a partner," Brian said quietly. "You could do a lot better … and you should."

"Are you turning me down? Because if that's what you're saying, then you are a whole fucking lot stupider than I thought."

"I don't want to hold you back. I don't want to be a burden. It'll wear thin before too long."

"What was it that Adrienne told you – don't hide behind the chair. I want you, Brian," Justin stated staring into the hazel eyes. "I want you, and it has nothing to do with the chair. It has to do with who you are, the man I see when I look at you."

"You don't see the chair, do you?"

"No, I don't. And you shouldn't either. Adrienne is right. You are successful and funny. The gallant part is still up for grabs." Brian gave him a playful swat. "You're also smart and honest and I love being with you. You're what I want."

Brian was silent. He seemed to be thinking. Justin waited. He knew Brian was trying to do the right thing. He understood why he was pushing him away. He hoped he'd made it clear that he knew what he was getting into and it was exactly what he wanted.

"How about Permanent Partner?" Brian said.

"I like the sound of that. Shall we consummate our partnership?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Brian leaned down to kiss this man who in the course of a few short days had changed his life for the better. Justin lived nearby and yet they might never have gotten together. How many times had he barely missed meeting him? He didn't know what kind of a future they could have together, but he knew he wanted that future whatever it turned out to be. He was glad he had taken some chances. Justin was worth it. He was glad Justin had been close to home. Now he was home. His arms went around the slender body and pulled his future close.


End file.
